Catch and Release
by Elise-Collier
Summary: "Whatever, Claire. You could benefit from having some fun in your life, and I think he's just the man to help." "He's helped enough women already." She cringed. "I'd feel like I was having sex with half my staff, and probably catch a disease." - On island AU. Claire tries to resist the lure of Owen Grady, and they both discover that they may have met their match.
1. Chapter 1

**_This story started as a one-shot premise (shout-out and thanks to Lucy for the inspiration), but the words flowed too easily and started opening up further ideas. It took me a bit to figure out exactly where I wanted to go next. I just don't have the heart to write into film canon at the moment with_ Fallen Kingdom _looming, so I decided to try my first AU. I don't know how long this will go, but I hope readers enjoy it._**

* * *

As the Senior Assets Manager for Jurassic World, Claire Dearing didn't have a 40 hour work week. She didn't have weekends off. It wasn't shift work either. She was expected to be available 24/7, and she thrived on that. The job was most akin to being a President or Prime Minister. She knew, however, that she was much more hands-on than a typical head of state. Part of that was the uniqueness of her position - something that absolutely thrilled her - but another part was her controlling nature. Claire had significant difficulty delegating. She could easily employ three assistants for the breadth of her duties, but she only wanted one. It hurt her brain to imagine juggling three different people, especially when she only trusted herself to take care of the majority of her work. To ensure that everything was done right and to her standards.

Subsequent to all of this, Claire didn't have a personal life. Not that she really minded. Work fulfilled her enough. Having such a powerful position gave her far greater satisfaction than any man ever had. She admitted fully to over-identifying with Queen Elizabeth I of England. She always admired the ginger monarch in childhood, but her desire to emulate her stemmed from the movie _Elizabeth_ starring Cate Blanchett. She saw it during her senior year of high school and never felt that she understood any historical figure better. Elizabeth's accomplishments were achieved through raw strength of character and disallowing others from having a physical or emotional hold on her. The way she bucked traditional gender roles inspired Claire, too.

Claire learned early on about the continued unfairness of gender roles in society. She had always been smart. It was a source of personal pride, but combined with her other qualities - fierce independence, competitiveness, tenacity - it did not help her make a lot of friends or attract suitors. Her closest and, honestly, only true friend in high school was a boy, Steve, who had similar qualities. Steve, by contrast, never had a problem getting dates. Before they went their separate ways for college, Claire asked Steve to sleep with her. She wanted to lose her virginity to someone she respected and trusted. She also didn't want it hanging over her on campus like a scarlet V. She wanted to get it over with.

Claire got a "typical" first time experience, and that was all she wanted. It was a relief. Afterwards, she didn't romanticize it or Steve. She never romanticized sexual intercourse. It wasn't ever particularly important to her. This didn't mean she was asexual. Her guilty pleasure was reading especially dirty historical romance novels. It was a primitive escape from her heavy load of honors courses in high school and college. She got herself off manually after reading. Her college roommate gave her a vibrator as a gag birthday gift one year, and it turned out to be one of the best presents of her life. Claire would later upgrade it to the Jack Rabbit.

Her dalliances with men in college, grad school, and in her adult work life never lived up to her fantasies or the orgasms she achieved on her own. She also became increasingly judgmental of women and men who turned into blubbery messes in relationships. Over time, the idea of a committed relationship with someone held no lure for her. Claire was aware of being described as "ruthless" and "frigid" in her work and personal lives. She didn't give a shit. She had almost single-handedly molded Jurassic World into a profitable, safe, and wildly popular vacation destination unique in all the world.

Simon Masrani took a chance on her after seeing her potential as an intern, and neither one ever looked back. Thanks to her success with the park, Masrani and InGen started a research division on the island to explore further potential benefits to having dinosaurs roaming the earth - beyond entertainment. It was then that Claire was introduced to Owen Grady. He was different from anyone she had ever met. It unnerved her. She couldn't keep him out of her sexual fantasies either. She chalked it up to the small pool of candidates on the island and her position of power among most its inhabitants.

Owen wasn't her employee. Their only interactions consisted of her hounding him for his monthly safety reports. He was continually expected to prove that his velociraptor project wouldn't negatively impact park operations. The reports were almost always late or only in haphazard email form, necessitating her to show up at the raptor paddock or his residence demanding a signed attestation. He delighted in pushing her buttons during these visits, trying to catch her off-guard or frankly irritate her. He was cocky, full of himself, and clearly had issues with authority. She wondered if this was why he left the Navy. Or if he was forced out of the Navy.

After a while, Claire began to wonder if Owen delighted too much in her personal visits. Their banter started as a stimulating distraction from her stressful and increasingly mundane responsibilities, but she grew uncomfortable with his attempts to knock her down a peg. He was also toeing a fine line of actually insulting her skills and intelligence. A year into his project, she asked Zara to take over this monthly task.

"You finally reached your limit with the sexual tension, then?" Zara queried with a cheeky smile. Claire rolled her eyes and considered whether Zara's teasing might be worse for her than her infrequent interactions with Owen. This was the downside to having only one assistant. Most of the time, it was a blessing. Zara knew her preferences and quirks. She could recognize Claire's moods and anticipate problems to limit her boss' stress. This time, it was a curse. There was also no point in pretending.

"He's infuriating," Claire answered firmly, biting her lip. She had already vented to Zara repeatedly about her annoyance with the raptor trainer. Zara had always rewarded her with salacious gossip about him. Owen had a reputation for casual sex on the mainland with Masrani employees who lived there as well as local women. In truth, most of the employees lived on the mainland. Very few people needed to be "on call" for the park and report quickly to their duty sections. Most worked shifts in the island or the 9-to-5 grind at the administrative offices in San Jose. Claire, Zara and Owen were among the exceptions who resided on Isla Nublar itself.

"He's single again," Zara related tauntingly with an enormous grin.

"When is he not?" Claire responded cattily with another eye roll.

"He and Hannah are finished for good this time. Alec said she's seeing someone in HR, and it's serious." Hannah was an on again, off again conquest of Owen's who worked alongside Zara's fiancé, Alec, in the accounting department. Alec was Zara's chief source of gossip.

"Well," Claire tutted, "I'm sure Owen is getting along just fine."

"I don't know," Zara smirked, "He might need some comforting, and I'm off the market." She looked at her boss expectantly, daring her to reveal something. Claire sharpened her gaze and pursed her lips. Zara laughed heartily, "I know you like him. I can't blame you. He's gorgeous, and we both know he'd satisfy you."

Claire scoffed, "Don't presume to know to that."

"Whatever, Claire. You could benefit from having some fun in your life, and I think he's just the man to help."

"He's helped enough women already." She cringed. "I'd feel like I was having sex with half my staff, and probably catch a disease."

"It's a valid point," Zara sighed. "Insist that he get tested first." She looked to her boss with genuine affection and added softly, "You'd be worth it."

"Thanks, Zara." Claire was wrong. Her assistant was always a blessing.

"Right then, I'll be going home to Alec now." Zara shook her head with a light chuckle as she bid Claire adieu.

* * *

Claire pulled up to Owen's bungalow more on edge than usual. She was thrown by Zara speaking to her so openly about her attraction to him. Claire wished that he'd still been at the paddock and not already at home by the time she was making her visit. Barry could tell that she was irritated when they spoke briefly at the paddock. She detected a hint of amusement in his demeanor, too. It reminded her of Zara's mischievous reaction. Claire tried - and failed - to feel less on edge.

Owen was fishing off the end of the small dock on the lake beside his property. Claire appreciated the slight tilt of his head as she stopped the car. He continued fishing while she assembled the clipboard and pen. She knew he wouldn't keep any writing implements outside. Hell, he might not even have any inside the ramshackle dump he called home. No wonder he consorted on the mainland, she mused for not the first time. What woman would want to come back to that hybrid tin can shanty? She took a deep breath and watched him for a moment before opening her car door. He removed a fish from the hook and tossed it back into the lake. She smiled wistfully at a memory of catch and release fishing with her father on Lake Wissota. It helped to calm her nerves.

He didn't turn at her approach and merely recast his line. Surely, he could hear her grumbling as she traipsed across the mud. The hum of the insects wasn't that loud. Her footsteps reverberated through the wooden planks as she stepped onto the dock. Owen shook his head and let out a small snort. Claire didn't enjoy this manipulation game, but she needed to play it well. She made her way toward him slowly and deliberately, unwavering and assured. She stopped at his side, their shoulders only a few fingers' width apart. She looked out over the water, mirroring his stance. She held the clipboard with both hands in front of her waist.

"You look well," Claire said. Her voice dripping with disappointment.

"Should I not?" he asked with surprise. He stole a quick glance at her. Claire didn't move but noticed his alluring lopsided grin with her peripheral vision.

"I was hoping you'd be devastated by Hannah moving on." Her words had bite. She'd never spoken any words of a personal nature to him before. She felt emboldened and smiled on the inside. Her exhilaration spilled out in the form of clicking her heels on the dock.

"Nah, we were just fucking." Owen was nonchalant and callous, not skipping a beat. Claire finally turned to him and couldn't hide her disgust. "Not your jam, huh?" His tone was taunting. She felt her pulse quicken. He'd caught another fish and was releasing it back to the water. "I suppose I should be holding on to these suckers and cooking them for us before you'd even consider that."

Claire stepped back from him and scoffed, "Us?" Owen turned to face her and rested his pole on the top of his shoe. His gaze flickered sultry then rested at playful.

"Not into that either?" he groaned with exaggerated frustration. "Damn. I guess you expect to be fully wined and dined - maybe a red carpet - before giving it up." She wanted to slap him but wouldn't give him the satisfaction. It was the first time he made such blatant innuendos. The first time he suggested that there was something between them beyond pissing each other off. Of course there was. It was there from the beginning. She just wished he'd chosen to finally acknowledge it in a less vulgar way. That was truly disheartening to her. On the bright side, it diminished the previously unrelenting fantasy. Claire simply cocked her head to one side and held out the clipboard.

"Your signature, Mr. Grady." Her impatience was obvious. Owen didn't move at first. He stared at her with a blank expression. She couldn't tell if he was disappointed or challenging her to say more. He was the first to look away.

"You're terrible at dirty talk," he said flatly while adjusting the fishing pole and taking the clipboard out of her hands. She made a show of checking her watch and tapping her foot while he initialed each page and signed at the end. She snatched it back from him the instant that he dropped the pen back on the clipboard.

"Thank you," Claire hissed sarcastically. She tossed her hair before stalking down the dock.

"See you next month," he called out to her when she stepped back onto his squishy lawn. She could almost feel his Cheshire Cat grin on her back.

"No, you won't," she hollered back without stopping or turning. "I'm not one of your fish." Claire was angry. She could now admit that she liked their slow burn flirting, but he let her down. Owen truly was a Neanderthal. He wasn't the wild stallion of her romance novels who just needed a strong woman to tame him. The dissolution of her fantasy wasn't the bright side, unfortunately. Her heart ached as she walked toward her car. The only bright side was that she likely saved herself from chlamydia.

He probably thought she was bluffing. Claire could tell that he wasn't galloping after her. It was the last straw. She was done with him. Sending Zara in her place wasn't the answer. If he couldn't bother to follow the rules, she wasn't going to keep letting him get away with it. She would stop making an exception for him. Stop tolerating his recalcitrance because she was hot for him. She would start treating him like any other disobedient employee. She would go to his supervisor the next time he failed to submit a signed report. Claire laughed to herself. Yes, Owen could face Vic Hoskins instead of her. The idea was simply delicious.

* * *

 ** _Thanks for reading. I'm going to make this one more fun and less angsty than I usually go - I hope that's okay!_**


	2. Chapter 2

As expected, Owen didn't file his paperwork on time. As she planned, Claire alerted Vic Hoskins. She knew him to be harsh on his employees. Hoskins was a Marine drill sergeant in another life - hard for Claire to comprehend given his beer belly - and maintained that attitude as the head of island security. On numerous occasions, she'd heard him prattle on about "survival of the fittest." He was obnoxious in a way not unlike Owen. She would've been more annoyed by him if not for the fact that he got results. He vetted ACU recruits in San Diego by subjecting them to some top secret training program there. Subsequently, the turnover rate for ACU was the lowest among the various park employee classifications. Claire was never dissatisfied with the quality and support of his ACU.

She tolerated Hoskins' arrogance due to her respect for his work ethic, and that respect was mutual. She fully expected him to assist her with getting Owen in line. Hoskins chuckled into the phone. He seemed eager to reprimand his "wayward" raptor trainer. Since Hoskins and Owen probably mixed like oil and water, she imagined the powder keg this would ignite. It filled her with glee. Claire chastised herself for relishing in Owen's impending punishment. She remained very bothered by his crass comments during their last encounter, and she was far from becoming indifferent to the thought of him. He still invaded her dreams despite her no longer masturbating with him in mind.

Two days after her phone call to Hoskins, Claire was writing an email in her office and heard a commotion in the hallway outside her closed door. The voices were muffled, but she could make out the conversation if she strained to hear.

"She's very busy," Zara said dismissively. "You can't just show up here unannounced."

"Oh, she'll make time for this." It was Owen Grady. He sounded angry and as if he was speaking through gritted teeth. Claire's heart started to pound.

"I'll ask her," Zara sounded at her wit's end. Claire knew her assistant had a great deal of patience and strength. She feared that Owen was reaching new levels of menacing. She mentally prepared to face him at his worst. It was a favorite defensive play of hers.

"If you open that door, I'm going inside," Owen was practically growling. Claire suppressed a laugh. This was going to be so much fun.

True to his word, Owen pushed past Zara and stalked toward Claire's desk. Zara made eye contact with her boss, who gave her a nod. They understood each other's nonverbals implicitly. Zara stepped back into the hallway and shut the door. Claire cleared her throat and leaned back in her chair as she looked up at Owen. He was breathing heavily and toggling a manila envelope between his hands. He glared at her briefly before shaking his head and emitting a staccato "tsk" sound. Claire leaned back further and raised a single eyebrow.

"Here," he said calmly, chucking the envelope forcefully onto her desk. "Signed, sealed, delivered."

"Thank you," she answered flatly, her eyes never leaving his.

"You ruined something fun."

She scoffed, "Please." She almost snorted. "I wasn't crude."

"You started it."

"You're immature." Claire rolled her eyes.

"Oh, right." Owen chuckled viciously before sneering sarcastically, "Because talking about people behind their backs is the definition of maturity." Claire was caught. The mirth drained from her face. She appreciated a modicum of pain in his eyes. She didn't know if it was about herself or Hannah. She hoped it was about herself. "You didn't have to make it personal...at least, not like that." He flashed her a cheeky grin.

"You want me to get personal with you...another way, Mr. Grady?"

"You know I do." He paused to cross his arms over his chest and slightly elevate his chin. "So do you."

"You wish." She tried to shrug it off, but even she could tell that it was an unconvincing display. He walked forward and smacked his palms on her desk. It made her jump. Their eyes were now on the same level.

"I know you aren't so lenient with all your employees, Claire. I got special treatment, and I liked it." He moistened his lips with his tongue. Claire almost audibly gulped in response. She pulled herself together.

"So, you were taking advantage of me?" Her tone was taunting.

"Yeah, and I want to keep it going."

"Well," she smirked, "I'm done giving you leniency, so I guess you're shit out of luck."

"How about I lean you over something in my bungalow?" He laid on the smolder thick. It didn't do him any good.

She laughed out loud before taunting him, "Is that the best you can do? Seriously? Do girls on the mainland go for lines like that?" He stood up and removed his hands from her desk. She had him unnerved. She shook her head. Her patience wearing thin as he said nothing and she couldn't read the expression on his face. "'Just fucking' isn't something I do."

"From what I hear," Owen hissed, "you don't do anything at all." His words were intended to sting. The goal was accomplished to an extent, but Claire was largely content with her life choices. It could be lonely and isolating at times, but she figured it saved her from a different, deeper type of pain.

She sighed, "Seems like you talk behind people's backs, too." She stared him down. "Kindly leave my office." Her Owen Grady fantasy was less appealing with every passing second. She wanted him out of her sight as quickly as possible. She broke their eye contact first and resumed her email-writing. She glanced briefly at the door as he shut it. He didn't look back.

* * *

The next month, Owen submitted his report on time. Zara brought it to her after Claire returned from a meeting.

"You missed him," Zara opined with a pout.

"I don't know if THAT'S strictly true," replied Claire, frowning.

"Oh, shut it. Don't you want to know if he said anything? How he looked?"

"You're going to tell me anyway." Claire was trying too hard to appear disinterested.

Zara giggled, "He said to tell you that he was sorry. He was clearly disappointed you weren't here."

"Hopefully, he'll send someone else next time." Claire was just starting to get Owen Grady out of her system. Zara was undermining that effort. His words in her office replayed mercilessly in her brain: "I want to keep it going." What did he mean? At the time, she assumed he just meant meaningless sex, as was his reputation. The more she thought about his statement - recalling the subtle hurt in his eyes and his catty retort to her rejection - the more she wondered if he meant something else. Something more traditional. Something, dare she believe, more wholesome? It seeded in her consciousness and became more irksome than their previous interactions.

On good days, Claire told herself that the statement was likely part of a ruse to get her in bed. What a trophy she would be to him - not only the Senior Assets Manager, but he knew that she didn't sleep with anyone. That bit of information being discussed by her employees wasn't surprising but still hurt. She subsequently hadn't been gossiping with Zara about anyone since her last interaction with Owen.

On bad or lonely days - she was guiltily missing the schadenfreude that came from gossip - Claire wondered if she should've taken him up on his suggestion of being wined and dined. She fantasized about him being her trophy and how she'd make him work for it. Plead for it. Beg for it. Such thoughts got her aroused and made the rough days more tolerable.

As Owen's next paperwork due date approached, Zara teased Claire at least once a day about whether she was looking forward to seeing him.

"Maybe he'll be late again," Zara smirked. "Last month could've been a fluke. He can't keep it up."

Claire scoffed, "I somehow doubt that's EVER his problem." Zara laughed heartily. Her boss took the bait and proved where her mind was with regard to the raptor trainer. Claire remained silent until Zara frowned, "Look, I know you told me to lay off the gossip, but you should know that, in the last month, there have been no reports of his being out on the prowl." This knowledge piqued Claire's curiosity, and it was obvious to Zara, who shook with excitement. She whispered for effect, "People are starting to wonder if he's seeing someone...on the island."

Claire groaned, "Maybe he is." She looked away from Zara.

"Who could that be, Claire?" Zara's eyebrows were raised when her boss looked back at her. It was clear that Zara interpreted Claire's reaction differently than was intended.

"What are you suggesting?" Claire stammered. Zara smiled devilishly. "Do you think I'm seeing him...secretly?" Zara nodded. "Well, I can tell you with certainty that I am not."

Zara shrugged, "Maybe someone else then." Claire's disappointment was obvious this time. "Although," Zara added with a grin, "I doubt it. You were my guess, and there are very few other options - myself included, and it's not me."

"Are...people on the mainland suggesting it's me?" Claire asked hesitantly.

"No. The horny women just miss seeing him around. There are five or six ready to pounce as soon as he returns to the scene." Claire breathed an audible sigh of relief, but a small part of her lamented that her reputation for being frigid likely protected her from being the subject of such speculation. "Claire, come on. Admit you like him." Zara looked at her boss sympathetically. "I try not to rub things in with Alec, but I'm really happy to have found him. I want that happiness for you."

"I don't need a man to be happy," Claire spat back, near to venomously.

"I know." Zara didn't back down or appear offended. "But there's a tremendous difference between that and living a solitary existence. You're not happy anyway."

"I'm sorry, Zara. I shouldn't have snapped at you." Claire stopped short of admitting that her assistant was right. She knew her too well. Maybe three assistants would be better. Alec and Zara were considering a transfer within Masrani Global as their wedding date approached. Claire knew that Zara would be irreplaceable.

When her assistant left for the day, Claire leaned back in her office chair and considered how to divide her workload into thirds. She refused to consider what Zara suggested with regard to Owen Grady, after quickly bemoaning the lack of alternative bachelors. She also pushed away the intrusive thought that she only had eyes for him.

The next morning, Claire logged into her computer and saw something on her schedule that hadn't been there the preceding evening: "1130 - Meeting with Owen Grady." It was marked as added to the calendar by Zara and spanned until 1pm. Claire huffed silently. This was supposed to be her day for a quiet lunch alone and away from the building - no meetings, no teleconferencing, no one breathing down her neck for a signature. She called Zara into her office.

"What do you think you're doing?" Claire asked with agitation in her voice after the door was shut.

"Encouraging you to live a little," Zara answered with a giggle bubbling in the back of her throat.

"Did he ask me to lunch?" Claire was whispering for no apparent reason.

"No." Zara spoke in a normal volume, unable to contain her mirth. "He emailed me last night and asked when you'd be in your office today...to 'receive his paperwork.'" Claire rolled her eyes. The other woman was enjoying the potential double intendre way too much. "Ask HIM to lunch."

"What if he says no?" Claire was embarrassed by the fear evident in her tone.

"He won't," Zara reassured her. Claire's brow wrinkled in frustration.

"I don't want to be another notch in his bedpost."

"You won't." Zara looked deadly serious. It startled Claire. "I know you wouldn't let that happen, even if that's his intention...which I don't think it is." Zara sighed, "Give it one lunch hour. Explore the possibility. If he's a total louse, toss him...and the fantasy. It'll be done." Claire blushed, unnerved that Zara could read her like that.

Claire sat at her desk a bundle of nerves, glancing at the clock on her computer screen every ten seconds. She hadn't recalled ever feeling so foolish. It was just Owen Grady, for Pete's sake, and she wasn't some trembling violet. She was Claire fucking Dearing, keeper of the kingdom. She pounded a fist on her desk reflexively. Just then, an aggressive knock sounded on her door. Claire knew that it wasn't Zara. He didn't wait for a response, and she barely had time to adjust her posture before he let himself in. As he shut the door behind him and sauntered toward her desk, Claire admitted to herself that she had missed him. His musky scent. His cocky charm. The real thing was better than any fantasy. She tucked the thoughts away. He stopped in front of her desk with a hopeful look in his eyes. Owen cleared his throat and held out the envelope toward her. She stood to take it from him, but he didn't immediately let go. They seemingly played tug-of-war until he spoke - barely audible and almost under his breath, as if he was the object being pulled in two different directions - "How can I see you more than once a month?" Claire blinked rapidly, suddenly unsure of herself, and almost stumbled backwards with the force of her own tugging when he let go of the envelope.

"Are you free for lunch today?" she blurted out, not thinking first. His question remained unanswered.

"Uh, yeah," he stuttered as he looked down. Claire smirked at the faint blush on his cheeks. Maybe he was expecting a fight. Or a rejection. Owen's gaze shifted back to her, and there was mischief in his eyes. "That was easier than I thought it would be." She bit her bottom lip to contain a chuckle.

"My free time is precious," she finally said. It was a loaded sentence and a warning. She wouldn't stand for him wasting her time. She was also telling him that he was worth her time. He appeared to understand all her meanings and was speechless, for once. Owen gave her a closed mouth smile that brought a twinkle to his eyes. She'd never before seen him smile like that and couldn't remember the last time such warmth was directed at her by anyone. Claire fought the smile tugging at her own cheeks. Fought the flush on her face and below her waist.

"Where to?" he asked with trepidation.

"Main Street," Claire answered while pulling her purse out of her desk drawer. She caught him rolling his eyes with her peripheral vision. What was he expecting? Afternoon delight? Owen Grady just might prove himself to be a total louse, after all.

They were largely silent on the walk through the building. Claire wondered if it was a mistake to be seen out in the open with him. She didn't want to be the subject of idle gossip, especially if this didn't pan out.

"Relax, Claire." He startled her while they rode the elevator alone. "I don't bite...unless that's something you're into." She turned her head, and he was laughing.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she teased. "I'm not even going to let you pay for me."

"I wasn't offering." She shook her head before he added, "I hope it won't offend your sensibilities, however, if I hold a door open for you." Claire missed this. Aside from Zara, no one joked around with her. One of her park monitors, Lowery Cruthers, made attempts at humor, but it usually came across as condescending. Lowery was perilously close to being reprimanded or losing his job for it. By contrast, Claire never considered firing Owen for his playfulness, but that could've been her leniency with him.

"I hadn't pictured you as the chivalrous type," she smirked.

"I guess I'm already not living up to your fantasies," he answered in mock disappointment.

"I'll do my best to exceed yours." She quirked a brow and smiled lasciviously. Her effect on him was evident in his widened pupils and sharp intake of breath. She walked into the Innovation Center with unmatched confidence after the elevator doors opened.

As they assimilated with the crowd on Main Street, Owen asked, "Why do you choose to come here on your free lunch hour?" His tone was a mix of curiosity and disdain. Claire could also tell that he was uncomfortable.

"I need occasional reminders of why I work so hard," she answered without defensiveness.

He scoffed, "Last time I checked, you weren't the Senior Tourists Manager."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Now, Claire was defensive.

"If you need reminders to motivate you, you should spend some time with the animals."

"I spend plenty of time in the field with the ASSETS." He scowled at her emphasis on the last word.

"You spend time in the field evaluating and criticizing the staff who work directly with the ANIMALS." She bristled at his judgmental emphasis as well as the presumption of familiarity with her job. She was more concretely beginning to regret this lunch. "I'm suggesting you make a trip into the park just to appreciate them. Maybe then, they'd be more than just ASSETS to you."

"I suppose you'd volunteer to enlighten me," Claire huffed.

"I'm sure I could open your world to lots of possibilities." She heard the shift in his tone. Owen was back to being mischievous. When she turned her head, he was grinning broadly at her. It made her laugh. "I like that sound, Claire. You should do it more." She rolled her eyes to keep her blush in check. They were standing in front of Jamba Juice. "This is lunch?" asked Owen, confused.

"Their drinks average almost 800 calories, and it's efficient."

"Okay," he relented. "I would've offered to pay if I knew you were a cheap date." He made a show of holding the door open for her, and she laughed again.

They walked the perimeter of the lagoon with their drinks. Claire shared amusing anecdotes about guest mishaps and the subsequent modifications made by engineering. Owen responded in kind by sharing similar stories about the raptors. She liked the way he lit up talking about his job. There was a joy for him that she had yet to capture in her own work despite years of living on Isla Nublar.

"What is it?" he asked, a genuine concern apparent.

"Oh," she stammered. "I guess I'm a little jealous." She regretted the self-disclosure immediately and avoided his gaze.

"Yeah," he smirked, "I get that a lot. Many women are jealous of my girls." Claire could tell he was joking. She looked at him, and his eyes were sympathetic. "You're not going to find that motivation out here." He motioned toward the crowd. She swallowed hard. "When's your next free afternoon?"

"Wednesday." Her voice was soft and hesitant. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

"Meet me at my place. One o'clock?"

"Sure." Claire had pulled herself together and stiffened her posture. She hoped to convey that she wasn't agreeing to an illicit rendezvous. He flashed her that warm smile again before nervously looking at his watch.

"I gotta get back," he stammered. She nodded in agreement. They walked somewhat briskly toward the Innovation Center. Before he broke off toward the staff parking area, he gave her a sly smile and said, "Wear pants and...flats Wednesday."

"Don't get used to telling me what to do," she teased in response.

"You'll learn to like it." She scoffed audibly, but his back was already facing her as he maneuvered through the crowd, preening like the cock of the walk.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thanks for the support to this story so far. I'm not sure how many chapters it'll end up, but I was struck by significant inspiration this week and am very excited to share where it's going :)**_

* * *

Claire took a deep breath before turning off her car. She really didn't know what to expect from Owen or this afternoon. It had been almost a week since their lunch, and she hadn't heard anything from him since then. Zara was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about non-work matters during the same time period. Claire couldn't help feeling cynical about this being some sort of booty call or worse. Absent of external feedback to the contrary, she worried that he intended to embarrass or humiliate her.

She looked around the property, and Owen was nowhere in sight. She didn't want to knock on his door. Under no circumstance would she be entering his bungalow today. Over her dead body would Claire be giving him the impression that she was easy. If she was ever going to sleep with him, he needed to earn her trust. She also needed to be sure that he wouldn't hurt her. Claire squeezed her eyes shut. What was wrong with her? She hardly knew him, but he was already twisting her into knots. There was something about Owen that made it particularly difficult to disentangle fantasy from reality. Was it her analytical mind or libido trying to fill the gaps in her knowledge? She was reminded why she avoided relationships and hoped this wasn't a mistake.

Claire opened her eyes to the sound of a screen door slamming shut. Owen was slowly descending the steps of the deck and beaming at her. He looked effortlessly gorgeous in jeans and a plain black t-shirt. She was pleased not to be over-dressed. When she stepped out of her car in a green tank top and stonewashed jeans, he was obviously checking her out. It made her feel better than she wanted to admit.

"What are those?" he asked with curiosity, pointing to her shoes.

"Bicycle sneakers," she answered proudly. She took a lot time considering her footwear, unsure of his plans.

"Are those the only flats you own?" He was mocking her. She pursed her lips in frustration.

"No, but I didn't want to worry about laces getting caught or shoes falling off when we're riding that." Claire crossed her arms and nodded her head in the direction of the motorcycle parked across his lawn. She hoped he would be pleased with her thoughtfulness. Instead, his eyebrows went up higher than she thought was physically possible.

"You...planned...to ride my bike?" he stammered. Claire suppressed a groan.

"Isn't that how you get around?" she challenged.

"Yeah, but I wasn't expecting..." His voice trailed off as he scratched his head and chuckled nervously. She dropped her arms in defeat. He wasn't taking her anywhere. It was a booty call after all.

"Forget it, Owen." She huffed and turned toward her car.

"Wait! Claire, are you leaving?" There was desperation in his voice. His confidence had evaporated. He grabbed her hand, but she pulled it away and glared at him angrily. "You have the wrong idea. I just didn't think you'd be willing to ride it. I figured you'd want to take your car where we're going."

"So," she hissed, "we're actually going somewhere?"

"Jesus, Claire, maybe we shouldn't if you're gonna assume I'm a scoundrel." They were both breathing heavily as the air felt suffocating. She took a step back from him and broke eye contact.

"I'm sorry," she stuttered and shook her head. Owen softened before her eyes. She needed to let her guard down without losing her sense of self. She kicked a patch of grass, letting out her frustration. "Don't assume things about me either." He nodded earnestly. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise." He grinned devilishly then added with a wink, "It'll be better with the bike." He reached out a hand to her, but she hesitated to take it. She was still smarting from his forceful grip on her a minute earlier. "Come on, Claire. If you can't even hold my hand, how do you ever expect to stay on the bike?" She felt her blood pressure surging at the thought. He surely felt it, too, when she finally took his hand. She caught his warm sigh of relief at their touch. This time, his grip was firm but tender. Owen was full of surprises. His behavior was not at all what she expected after he hadn't touched her once during their walking lunch. Plus, it was only a short distance to his motorcycle.

Wrapping her arms around him on the bike gave her an indescribable rush. The sensation was unfamiliar but, strangely, somehow felt like coming home. Despite the auspicious start to their afternoon, Owen seemed just as comfortable with her as she did with him. Claire reveled in the feel of his body against hers. Her nerve endings tingled everywhere. They were driving in the direction of the raptor paddock until he turned abruptly down an older path. Her grip tightened around him as the path came to an end, and he maneuvered them more slowly through the brush.

They stopped at the base of an enormous, ancient-looking tree adjacent to a storm drain. The tree looked weathered by more than just time. Owen helped her off the bike, and they locked eyes. She momentarily lost herself in his gentle hazel irises flecked with green and gold.

"Do you know where we are?" he asked softly, pulling her out of her entranced state. Claire looked around as he continued to hold one of her hands. Her internal island map flashed into her mind's eye.

"The original _T. rex_ enclosure," she said confidently. "On the backside of the Cretaceous Cruise."

Owen laughed, "So much for my surprise." He squeezed her hand. "Specifically, this is the exact spot where Alan Grant fell into the enclosure with John Hammond's grandkids." Claire couldn't help wincing. "I like to come here as a reminder of why I work so hard." She shuddered and performed a visual inspection of the abandoned area.

"How does this help you?" she asked with judgment in her tone.

"It keeps me grounded in reality." He was deadly serious as he held her gaze. "This is the dinosaurs' kingdom. We're only here to learn and hope to survive."

She scoffed dismissively, "That's pretty morbid."

"It's self-preservation." Claire understood that concept well. "Helps me keep my guys at the paddock safe, too. I have a healthy sense of our place in the 'world.'" Owen paused and seemed to be steeling himself for his next statement. "It's complete fiction that they're ASSETS. Calling them that robs them of their actual power and gives you a false sense of security." It felt like an accusation even though his eyes remained sympathetic.

"You're teaching me to fear the animals, is that it?" she sneered defensively. "I thought you wanted me to appreciate them."

"Respect them, Claire." He stared her down. Claire felt his pulse racing against her hand. "There's a difference between respect and fear. Fear makes people weak. I'd never want you to be weak." Her eyes flicked to his lips. He didn't miss it. His cocky half-smile lit up his face.

"Liar," she smirked playfully.

"It's not really weakness if it's mutual." Claire felt sweat between their palms. She couldn't tell who it belonged to. She swallowed hard as he moved in closer, but they were interrupted by the sound of crunching tires nearby.

She closed her eyes and sighed, "Security patrols."

"I want to take you one other place anyway." His eyes sparkled with excitement as he walked them back to the bike.

It was a long ride to their next stop. Owen seemed to derive significant pleasure from her squeezing him when he adjusted their speed on the back roads. She viewed it as his teaching respect and never felt as if he was cavalier with her safety. Her entire body was humming when they finally reached their destination. Claire couldn't remember the last time she felt so aroused. The sensation was, unfortunately, short-lived.

"A little birdie told me you'd never ridden this," Owen teased while leading her toward the park's gondola lift. She wouldn't verbalize the reason for that fact, and silently cursed Zara. It was going to take all of Claire's focus to conceal it, and she still might fail. Claire felt her anxiety rising with every step.

They sat next to each other inside the glorified sky bucket. Owen appeared fully relaxed with both arms resting along the back of the circular seat while Claire clasped her hands together tightly in her lap and fixed her eyes on a random spot on the horizon. Every creaky sound and sideways motion was heightened in her mind. She gritted her teeth to hide her shallow breaths. Her hypervigilance betrayed her.

"Shit," Owen blurted out, apparently aware of her rising panic. Claire froze. Her muscles tightened further. She didn't dare speak, knowing that her voice would quaver. "I swear I didn't know. I'm so sorry." He sounded almost as nervous as she felt. His hands slipped to her shoulders. When she found the strength to look up at him, she was overwhelmed by the genuine concern etched into his features. She didn't like that she had put it there. She didn't want him to feel weak either.

Claire forcefully grabbed his shirt with both hands and pulled his mouth down to hers. No sooner had she parted her lips for his did his arms snake around her waist. She felt her fear melt away and her muscles relax as she focused on the deliberate movements of his tongue, the taste of his kiss, and the pressure of his fingers. She was vaguely aware of being pulled up to straddle his lap while gradually losing awareness of anything beyond their embrace. Her arms wrapped around his neck to bring them as close as possible - closer even than when pressed together on his motorcycle. Claire lost all sense of time. At some point, they passed through the station at the top of the ride, but neither of them made a motion to disembark. She couldn't give a shit about what the operator thought of their display. Making out with Owen was all-consuming and liberating - it quashed any self-consciousness she might otherwise feel.

Claire sensed his movements becoming sloppier and heard his whimper as he took a breath. She never felt so powerful or strong. She bit his bottom lip while running a hand through his hair. His hands began exploring the bare skin just under her tank top as she tensed her thighs around him. She couldn't stop the laugh of gratification that suddenly escaped her throat, so pleased by his grunts and the fullness she felt rising between his legs. In fact, she couldn't stop laughing once she started. It was like a domino effect when she considered the irony of her joy. Fortunately, her laugh was also contagious, and Owen didn't seem to take offense. Both out of breath, Claire rested her forehead against his and whispered, "I couldn't be more on top of the world." Her cheeks were sore from kissing and laughing but still maintained a grin.

"You're welcome," Owen said through his twinkly-eyed smile that she felt was hers alone. He kept her steady with a hand on the small of her back as their breathing slowed. "Why didn't you tell me you were afraid of heights?" She relaxed in his lap and softly placed her hands on either side of his face. His countenance no longer disfigured with worry, only his laugh lines remained.

"Fear makes people weak," Claire answered with a knowing smirk.

"You may have conquered it."

"You'll probably need to keep bringing me up here for 'exposure therapy,'" she countered playfully.

"Anytime." His eyes bore into hers hot and sultry. "As long as you're conquering me, too." Their physical height above the park and her continued leverage over him was a heady mixture. Claire felt dizzy. Owen leaned forward to kiss her neck. She let out a soft moan as she closed her eyes. She started to drift out of reality. When she felt his hands moving upwards from beneath her tank top, it snapped her back.

"Stop," she commanded. "Not here." She would not allow him to get to second base in full view of park guests. Making out in public was already a huge challenge to her comfort zone. With her mind no longer clouded by panic, Claire reconsidered the messages she was sending Owen. He raised his hands in surrender before resting them on the back of the seat. "Thank you," she said after planting a quick kiss on his lips.

He looked her up and down lasciviously then teased, "I can't believe you hesitated to hold my hand earlier." He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not naturally a touchy-feely person, Owen."

"Could've fooled me, the way you held me on the bike." One of his hands gently rubbed her back. "You never fail to impress me."

"I'm not trying to."

"I know. That's the best part." He pulled her into him and feathered kisses across her collarbone. "You're also sexy without trying." She shivered under his touch. Claire wished she could move off his lap without insulting him. She needed some space to think. This was unnatural for her, even if it felt good. She still wasn't sure of his motives. Claire sighed audibly and put her palms flat on his chest. His lips were still slightly puckered when he opened his eyes. He wore a wounded look. She could easily get lost in those flecks of green and gold again. This was dangerous.

"How do I know that's not a line, Owen?" She was being honest and hoped it didn't come out accusatory.

"There you go again," he huffed. Claire furrowed her brow and pulled out of his lap.

She couldn't look at him when she said, "I barely know you. I have to go by the information I have."

"Secondhand information," he hissed.

"Do you deny your reputation?" she spat back as she turned to face him. Owen remained silent, seemingly pleading the Fifth. She had a reputation, too, and was suddenly eager to show him that she could be otherwise. Did he want the same? There was undoubtedly a spark between them. She just couldn't tell if they were headed toward an explosion, a standard burnout, or an eternal flame. She wasn't sure which option scared her more. "Show me differently then," she said sympathetically. "No red carpet required."

Owen breathed out - had he been holding it in? The mischief returned to his face. "What will you require?" he smirked.

Claire shrugged her shoulders then took his hand. "I prefer to figure that out together." She felt the warmth in her cheeks and heard his low chuckle as she leaned into his side. The ride was almost over. They had returned to earth.

When they arrived back at his bungalow, Owen kissed her again. It didn't have the ferocity or unbridled hunger of their kiss in the air, but it made her feel on a cloud nonetheless. He was tender in a way that she hadn't predicted, and there was a quiet grace to how he held her. Owen respected her boundaries but didn't treat her as if she was made of glass. It was just what Claire needed from him. She subsequently wasn't disappointed or upset when he didn't ask her to stay. It gratified her to believe that he simply anticipated her reaction. She was also elated not to be forced into the position of rejecting him. She wanted to end the afternoon on a high note.

As she turned to get into her car, Owen caught one of her hands.

"Your phone number, Claire?" he asked with a slight blush. It was the most adorable he ever looked. "Secondhand information isn't the best."

"I'm sure Zara's been enjoying playing matchmaker," she giggled in response. They were still holding hands, and her skin began to tingle. Claire was suddenly self-conscious of her behaving like a schoolgirl and looked away from him. They exchanged contacts with more formality than was strictly necessary, and Owen seemed amused.

"See you Saturday night," he said with a wink and an exaggerated turn of his body.

"Excuse me?" Claire answered with a double take and a hard tug on his hand. Owen mockingly swirled backwards toward her with a goofy grin.

"Zara put me on your schedule," he laughed. Claire rolled her eyes. "I swear, it's the last time I go through her, but she offered."

"Fine," she relented. "What's the plan?"

"Lady's choice. We'll take turns planning...until we figure this out." He was mocking her again and motioning his index finger between their bodies.

"That may be an impossible task," she teased back.

"As long as we're having fun, I don't care." He smoldered at her and squeezed her hand. She took a sharp intake of breath. Was he going to kiss her one more time? She knew it wouldn't be gentle if he did. She worried it wouldn't stop at a kiss if he did. "Bye, Claire." Owen let go of her hand and stepped toward his bungalow before she had decided whether or not she wanted him to kiss her. She felt left in the lurch but laughed to herself. That was likely his intention. He also probably intended for her to watch him disappear inside his home, which she did. It was a great view.

The following day, Claire made sure to tell Zara to stop being an intermediary with Owen.

"You're spoiling my fun," Zara complained in jest.

"And don't tell anyone," Claire said nervously. "I mean, I know you'll tell Alec, but that's it." Claire suddenly cringed at the thought of people talking about her dating the park's resident lothario. Owen surely wasn't the only one, but he had been the only one Claire cared to hear about from the gossip mill.

"Are you embarrassed by him?" Zara asked astutely with concern in her voice.

"No," Claire fired back defensively. "I just don't know where it's going and prefer to keep my private life private." Zara could read her boss like a book sometimes.

"It won't reflect poorly on you to be seeing him. If anything, people will think you're using him for the sex." Claire rolled her eyes. That didn't seem like an improvement on her current reputation. "Some people - myself included - will simply be pleased to see you taking a walk on the wild side." Zara winked at her. "Where are you going on Saturday?"

Claire stammered, "I...uh...get to pick."

Zara squealed in delight, "Can I help you plan that itinerary after we're done reviewing the investors' itinerary?" She made baby doll eyes, and this elicited a laugh from Claire.

"You are far too INVESTED in my love life," Claire teased.

Zara groaned, "I've been waiting for this to happen for over a year while you've been in denial." She raised her eyebrows and hummed "mm-hmm." Her assistant was right. This was a long time coming. Part of Claire knew that she was held back by worry over screwing it up.

* * *

 _ **I hope this chapter whet your appetite for things to come. Let me know what you thought of their first kiss. I'll try to have a faster turn-around for what's coming next. I had so much fun re-imagining something that was a significant source of consternation for my writing of previous fics - stay tuned!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**This chapter is relatively short because I wanted to post a "gift" for Valentine's Day. Enjoy!**_

* * *

Claire was sitting at a table in a corner of Nobu and looking at her watch. Owen was already ten minutes late. She hid behind her menu and pretended to consider the options even though she knew it by heart. She scanned the room occasionally to see if any other employees had entered the restaurant. As she anticipated, the crowd appeared to be all guests. It was an impossible task - for anyone other than the Senior Assets Manager - to get a table at Nobu on a Saturday night. It was booked for months in advance, but Claire had a standing agreement for a reserved table in case of last minute visits by the board, investors or other VIPs. She'd never used it for herself.

As the seconds ticked away, Claire wondered how long she could wait before walking out. She was growing more embarrassed than she was impatient. She examined her dress for any wrinkles. It was a deep red satin Versace with bejeweled straps that she'd never worn before. She'd been saving it for a special occasion and thought of it right away when planning this date night. Zara gave her seal of approval earlier in the evening, telling Claire that she looked like, "sex on a stick." The maitre'd even said he'd never seen her "so dazzling." All for nothing, she grumbled to herself just before she caught a middle-aged man making eyes at her from several tables away. Her stomach lurched, and she buried herself further into her menu.

"Claire?" Owen called out to her from across the room. She put her menu down and stood. She almost fell back into her seat as she regarded him in a gray henley, black board shorts, and Birkenstock sandals. She fought a frown from consuming her face. She was flabbergasted. She told him Nobu at eight. He had to know it was the finest restaurant on the island. What was happening?

"Wow," Owen seemed to stumble over his words as he planted a kiss on her cheek and ran the fingers of one hand over the satin on her hip. "You look...hot."

"And you look COOL," Claire struggled mightily to contain the disdain in her voice. She smelled alcohol on his breath. "Did you...pre-game?"

"Um...yes?" He smiled sheepishly then nervously looked around the room. Claire might've found it cute if he hadn't kept her waiting or had dressed more appropriately.

"Were you safe to drive here?" she asked scornfully in a hushed tone.

"I got a ride." He squinted at her and appeared to be sobering up. "It's why I was late."

"Good." Claire fought an eye roll. She wasn't happy but could accept that excuse in the name of safety and good judgment. It still wasn't an apology, however. Their waiter suddenly appeared at the table to take their drink orders.

"Two shots of tequila," Owen said with a wink and smile at Claire.

"Do you really think you need two more shots?" she said through gritted teeth.

"One's for you."

"No no no no. I'm not doing tequila shots at Nobu." Her voice dripped with haughtiness.

"What're you on a diet?" Claire did a double-take. She guessed that Owen was trying to make a joke, but it came out wrong in his inebriated state. She rolled her eyes and turned to their waiter. "One tequila shot for him," she said very kindly, "and tell Miguel I want my usual martini." The waiter nodded and left them.

"Your usual, Claire?" Owen sneered. "Bring all your dates here?"

"I have business dinners here," she sighed. "I wanted to enjoy it myself for once." She looked down to adjust her napkin in her lap. She willed herself not to give into her mounting sadness. She felt a hard lump in the back of her throat.

"I'm sorry," Owen whispered. He sounded genuine. Her head felt heavy and difficult to move. "You intimidate me." Claire's neck snapped upwards, and her eyes went wide. "Glad to have your attention again," he teased. She gave him a small smile and swallowed. She was uncharacteristically speechless, but the lump seemed to be shrinking. "It's true."

"I'm sure I intimidate lots of people," Claire finally said with vulnerability not arrogance. "I never thought you were one of them." One side of her mouth curled up, and she felt herself blushing.

"Why do you think it took me so long to ask you out?" He raised his eyebrows at her and extended one of his hands, palm-up across the table. The trembling in her fingers had subsided when she lifted her hand out of her lap to take it. She stared at their hands as he rubbed small circles onto hers with his thumb. She could feel both of them relaxing. "What's good here?"

"Everything," replied Claire. She laughed to herself as her eyes flicked to his. Her answer applied to more than just the food. She briefly contemplated his eyes again. She suddenly wanted to climb into their unfathomable depths. Claire shook herself out of it by thinking about how he must ensnare a lot of women in that way.

Owen seemed to enjoy her explaining the menu, the different types of sushi and what made the Nobu preparations special. He held her hand throughout, and she never tried to pull away.

"I'm beginning to understand why you like this place," he teased. "They serve equal parts hot and cold dishes." She was amused and felt emboldened to be playful in kind. She seductively trailed her finger pads across the underside of his wrist and felt his faint shudder in response to her touch. Claire could get used to that.

"It's exhausting to stay hot all the time," she smirked. "I don't know how you do it." He quirked a brow and breathed out. He appeared to be considering his response carefully. Before he could speak, their waiter returned with their drinks. Owen largely deferred to Claire regarding their order. He nodded in agreement to her selections for sushi and tempura to share.

After the waiter left, she parroted Owen's words from her office, "That was easier than I thought it would be." She looked to him with appreciation and took a sip of her martini.

"You said you wanted to enjoy yourself," he replied with his twinkly-eyed smile. "And...lady's choice." He raised his shot glass. "Cheers." Claire laughed as they clinked glasses. He winced after he downed his tequila and said, "Oooh. That's the good stuff. Much higher quality than my usual."

"I hope that statement applies to more than just the alcohol," she smoldered at him.

"That's a given, Claire." He subtly licked his lips. Her blood simmered with lust. It was so unlike her, and she couldn't blame it on the scant sips of her martini. He was barely making an effort, but she was very close to being putty in his hands.

She cleared her throat, "I'll be right back." Claire wanted to run to the restroom to get a grip on herself. She took it slow, realizing that he would likely watch her movements in her slinky dress and gold pumps.

While washing her hands, it dawned on Claire that Owen would probably expect her to give him a ride home. So much for a clean getaway at the end of dinner. She didn't want to sleep with him this early, but the evening was swiftly heading in that direction. She reminded herself of her fantasies of making him beg for it. She needed to find the strength to draw this out. She was also testing him. He needed to prove that he could delay gratification. She needed to be worth it. Her thoughts drifted to his ensemble, and that successfully cooled her. Claire mumbled, "board shorts," under her breath as she walked back into the dining room.

Just as she had left their table, she walked slowly and deliberately back to him. Owen was looking adorably nervous as his eyes scanned around. When his eyes found her eventually, he was clearly captivated. It gave Claire the same strong, powerful feeling that she had during their kiss on the gondola lift.

"You look spectacular tonight," he said with more anxiety than heat in his voice.

"Thank you," she preened. Owen watched her suspiciously as she drank her martini.

"You're not going to return the compliment?" he asked with exaggerated disappointment. She merely glared at him with a lopsided grin.

Claire decided that talking about work over dinner would help keep Owen at bay and her own libido in check. It only worked for so long. After dramatically and skillfully snapping up a piece of sushi with his chopsticks, he asked, "Don't you want to talk about something else?" He gave her a knowing smile. He was onto her. "Or are you really that boring?"

"Excuse me?" she scoffed defensively.

"Come on, Claire, there has to be more to you than being a workaholic."

"I didn't put a list of discussion topics on this evening's itinerary." She was trying to hide the kernel of truth behind her sarcasm. He laughed out loud.

"Did you actually have an itinerary?" He was reading her better than she could read him. She avoided his gaze. "You did, didn't you?" Her foot started tapping nervously under the table.

"It was just a joke with Zara," she muttered.

"I didn't realize you were so intimated by me." His tone was arrogant yet playful. She rolled her eyes through a smile.

"Okay, hotshot," Claire teased, "What's your favorite movie?" She needed to keep the discussion light.

"There's so many, it's hard to choose." She was intrigued and picked up another piece of sushi. "If I have to choose just one, I'd go with _The Adventures of Joe Dirt_ with David Spade." She practically choked on her tuna roll. Owen laughed heartily. When he caught his breath, he said, "I'm kidding."

"Thank God," she blurted out.

"Our night would've been over, right?"

"More than our NIGHT, Owen."

"Are you some sort of film snob?" She glared at him again. He clearly enjoyed getting a rise out of her. "In all seriousness, Hitchcock is my favorite. It's hard to pick just one of his. Probably _Vertigo_ or _Strangers on a Train_ , but _North By Northwest_ is almost perfect."

"Color me impressed. I haven't actually seen any of those." Owen's jaw dropped.

"More things I can open your world to." His seductive smile returned, and Claire felt warm all over.

She swallowed hard and stammered, "My favorite movie is _Elizabeth_."

"The Cate Blanchett one?" Claire nodded. Owen didn't skip a beat. "Sounds about right for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she bristled. He looked very seriously at her without any mirth in his eyes.

"Like Elizabeth, you inspire women." Claire laughed incredulously. "You don't believe me?" She raised her eyebrows. "You have no idea how many women look up to you. Or how important it is to have a woman in charge here. It makes other women feel good about this company. Like they can achieve more." She wasn't expecting this conversation. It was somehow more arousing than anything else they previously discussed. Owen continued matter-of-fact, "It also creates a less hostile work environment."

She scoffed, "You lost me there. Other women can get pretty hostile towards me."

"To your face?" he asked astutely.

"No...behind my back." He had her unnerved.

"Of course. They know what you would do to them if they did it to your face." This made her smile and relax. "Claire, they may cut you down behind your back out of jealousy, but they want to be you." This was definitely not just a line. She fought a huge grin from spreading across her face. It was the best thing anyone had ever said to her. He reached out and took her hand. His voice was low and gravelly when he added, "The fact that I'm with you will make them more jealous. You'll seemingly have it all."

Claire couldn't contain her embarrassingly girlish giggle. She recovered quickly and retorted, "You're not too full of yourself, are you?" They both laughed as Owen caressed her palm. She never felt so lucky.

As the remainder of their dinner played out, Claire found herself feeling shy. She recognized this as being mutual. She wondered if a fully sober Owen was bashful about his behavior at the beginning of the evening and trying to make it up to her in a caring and unassuming way. He listened attentively, but she never felt like he was ogling her. When he spoke about his raptors again, her jealousy from their walking lunch reappeared with an additional, ironic level of meaning. She wasn't only jealous of his occupational contentment. Just as he had joked, she was jealous that the raptors were what made him so joyful. They walked silently, hand-in-hand to her car at the end of the meal. Claire zoned out and found herself imagining Owen talking about her with a similarly joyful expression on his face.

When they reached her car, he turned to her and softly said, "I have no expectations for the rest of the night." He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I know I messed up. I'm really happy you're still-" She cut him off with her lips crashing against his. Her arms snuck under his to pull him down to her. She needed to kiss him now and not in the car or at his bungalow. She would be able to control it better in the open. The setting didn't prevent the kiss from escalating to voracious, however. Claire thought they could do this for hours. It made her feel alive.

"You're such a good kisser," she said breathlessly before diving back in for more. He pulled her flush against him. Her arms felt heavy and were going slack. Her hands grasped for purchase on his shoulders.

"You do something to me," he panted before pulling away to rest his forehead against hers. "Are you just going to drop me off or do you want..." His voice trailed off, and his fingers traced her gluteals. He was breathing hard. Claire opened her eyes, but his remained closed. She was incredibly torn. She ultimately decided to stick with her original plan and not to give into her baser desires. For the first time, it occurred to her that Owen could break her heart. She remained somewhat suspicious of him and wasn't ready to face that possible outcome.

He finally opened his eyes and must've seen the conflict on her face. He smirked, "It's the board shorts, isn't it?" She laughed, and his eyes twinkled in response. "Are you free Friday night?"

"I can be," she answered with a blush.

"Good. My turn to make the itinerary." She rolled her eyes and gave his arm a playful slap before moving to get into her car.

They were both quiet on the drive to the bungalow, but it wasn't tense or awkward. Owen was smiling at her most of the way even though he kept his hands to himself. His respect for her boundaries made Claire feel more at ease with him. He struck a perfect balance, like his gracefulness when holding her after the gondola ride. When she stopped the car, he hesitated to get out.

"You know, Claire, you're the only woman who's ever been here."

"I believe it," she answered in a clipped, judgmental tone.

"I won't take offense to that," he chuckled. "What time can I pick you up at your office on Friday?"

"Six."

"Great." He added with a wink, "And wear those bicycle sneakers for Casual Friday." When she smiled at him, he was looking at her wantonly. There was a fire in his eyes that threatened to break down all her defenses. Claire bit her lip and took a deep breath. The moment stretched on until she thought they'd both combust. Or maybe it only felt that way to her. She finally broke their eye contact to stare at her shoes - escaping his hypnotic gaze. Owen let out a brief, guttural moan and kissed her cheek before exiting the vehicle.

She didn't look up again until she heard his screen door slam shut. She breathed out until she felt completely deflated. Spent. Part of her fleetingly regretted not giving in. No. She couldn't have regrets with Owen Grady. She wouldn't let him have that power over her. Claire looked forward to the day she'd feel comfortable giving herself fully to him. Willingly and not under, albeit tantalizing, duress.

* * *

 ** _I ended this chapter here to consolidate (rather than arbitrarily split) the drama in the next one - I can never make it easy for these two, but I loved making their re-imagined date go well. Thanks for reading, and please review!_**


	5. Chapter 5

_**I promised a long chapter, and here it is!**_

* * *

When Owen arrived at the offices below the control floor on Friday, everyone except Claire had left for the day. She planned it that way. She hoped that, after tonight, she'd feel less anxious being seen with him. She also hoped that tonight would be when they'd sleep together. Claire wore her best lingerie underneath her Casual Friday ensemble of black button-down and khaki capris. No man had ever seen her wine-colored La Perla lace before, and she couldn't wait to watch Owen's face when he did.

His face lit up with a huge grin when he entered her office. It made her feel warm all over. The eager kiss he planted on her lips a moment later made her feel weak in the knees. He didn't smell or taste of alcohol. It was all Owen, and it made her giddy. As he pulled out of their embrace, he expertly undid the top button on her blouse with a flick of his wrist.

"You're off the clock now," he said after a slow lick of his lips. "Let's go." Before Claire could respond, he was pulling her by the hand toward the elevator. He pinned her to the glass as soon as the doors slid shut. His hands went to her hips while his lips trailed her neck until he took a shallow nip with his teeth near her collarbone.

"You told me the last time we were in here that you didn't bite," she said with a nervous laugh. She wasn't comfortable with his being so handsy from the get-go. It frankly confused her. Gone was the graceful, perfect balance he'd struck throughout their previous dates.

"I figured you'd be into it now," he chuckled then grunted into her ear. "You're too delicious to resist." He slipped his fingers into the belt loops on the front of her pants to pull her flush against him. They locked eyes, and Claire recognized his lustful gaze from when she dropped him off on Saturday night. She bit her lip. She wasn't ready for this. He needed to back off a bit. She was saved by the doors opening to the Innovation Center monorail station level. Several guests piled into the elevator as they rode to the ground level. Claire felt Owen's pulse pounding and sweat forming in his palm as they held hands. She breathed a silent sigh of relief.

Soon, they were riding his motorcycle again through the back roads of the park. Claire noticed that he was driving more aggressively than the last time, but she still enjoyed being wrapped around him. She was intrigued when he pulled up to the back side of the Aviary. He bowed to her as he opened the employee entrance door, and she laughed. Upon entering the space, her nostrils were assaulted by the smell of fish. It wasn't unexpected - she'd been there countless times before - but it didn't set a romantic mood. Staff were restocking the tank for the circulating, artificial river that ran through the Aviary. At least the sound of running water was soothing.

"Owen, why are we here?" she asked hesitantly as several staff members focused their gaze on the pair. He simply squeezed her hand and led her to the edge of the tank. They could peer through metal bars to watch the fish get carried by the current toward the Pteranodons and Dimorphodons nesting in the trees on the other side. Owen positioned himself behind her and put his arms around her waist. Claire leaned back against him but felt uneasy being so close to the carnivores and the prying eyes of her staff. She watched the pterosaurs swoop down to catch and devour the fish.

Owen startled her when he whispered close to her ear, "Can you imagine what they would do if they could select their prey from the open skies of the island?"

"They have shocking trackers under their skin," she replied arrogantly. "They wouldn't get far."

Owen groaned, "You're missing the point." Claire rolled her eyes knowing he couldn't see her do it. She got the point. This was another morbid lesson in respecting the animals. It was not good foreplay. He continued speaking in a hushed tone, "This is an unnatural feeding method, fish in a barrel. They would become vicious hunters if given the chance to track and eat their choice of meat."

"They still seem vicious to me." She swallowed hard as a pteranodon toyed with a fish in its talons.

"It's amazing to me that they don't eat each other alive." Claire became aware of Owen's fingers slipping between her buttons to reach the bare skin of her abdomen. "I'm surprised they're content merely to fish." One of his fingers grazed the lace of her bra. She gasped as he emitted a low moan.

"Owen!" she admonished in a whisper. She wanted to slap his hand away. Instead, she turned her body around, effectively dislodging his fingers, and scowled at him. He looked like he wanted to eat HER alive. She would've been turned on had they not been in public.

"I'm sorry," he said in a gravelly tone with a grin. "I just want to touch you all the time."

"You're a caveman," she hissed.

"Ouch, Claire."

"It's the setting. This is too much for me."

"You drive me wild." He leaned down to kiss her as his hands went to her waist and beneath her shirt. She stepped back from him and winced at the feeling of the cold tank pressed against her back. The heat never left his eyes. "I wanted to touch you for so long. I was going to ask you out that day on my dock - not just joke around about it. I told Barry ahead of time, so I wouldn't lose my nerve." Claire's pulse pounded. He was leaning over her and obstructing her view of any Aviary staff. "You blocked my cock." His face moved closer to hers with every word. "I had to wait another three months before you'd give me the time of day." His mouth stopped a fraction of an inch from hers, and he closed his eyes. Claire put her hands on his shoulders to push him away. He was startled.

She glared at him angrily then whispered, "What is this? Some sort of sick revenge play?" She didn't want to be overheard or forced into something out of her comfort zone. Owen's eyes widened, and he pulled fully away from her. He wore that wounded look she'd seen before, but she couldn't tell if it was genuine or in jest. "This isn't funny," she said before walking briskly toward the exit. Claire avoided making eye contact with her employees.

Once outside, Claire moved in the opposite direction from Owen's motorcycle and leaned against the building out of sight of the entrance. He followed her lead and stood next to her but didn't touch her.

"I'm not laughing, Claire." He sounded upset.

She labored not to sound bitchy, "I'm not some hot and cold tease." He scoffed in apparent disbelief. She sharpened her gaze and postured. "You were practically undressing me in front of my staff!" He shrank back slightly in response. She paced the area where they were standing. "I generally don't like PDAs. Especially around staff. I value my privacy and don't risk having my authority undermined."

"Okay," Owen relented. He took a deep breath. "You always think the worst of me. I don't want revenge. I want you." There was desperation in his tone. It wasn't the first time she'd heard it from him, but she still wasn't ready to yield.

Claire answered calmly, "YOU waited three months to ask me out. I would've been open to it sooner." She saw him roll his eyes before one side of his mouth curled up. The instant she smiled back, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a fiery kiss. He had full control, keeping a hand firmly on the back of her head. It felt so very good. Claire didn't care about being putty for the moment - at least they were hidden in the brush. When they broke apart to breathe, Claire taunted, "Feeling better?"

"Getting there," Owen groaned. "Come on." He led her back to his bike while she suppressed a giggle.

He drove more cautiously this time, and Claire nuzzled into his back. Her mind wandered to sexual places as she felt his muscles rippling with the movements of the bike. Then, she appreciated her stomach gurgling and wondered what else he had planned for their evening. He parked behind the first aid station nearest the underwater observatory and gave her a quick peck on the lips before they started walking.

Owen seemed nervous as they weaved through the Main Street crowd. Claire wondered if it was the setting or their date putting him on edge. She squeezed his hand and smiled warmly, and he kissed her hand in response. They made several stops. He told her to imagine it was a "scavenger hunt." He gave her his twinkly-eyed smile when she laughed. It almost made her swoon.

"What's your favorite flavor?" he queried as they walked inside the Mike & Ike store.

"Jolly Joes," she answered.

"I'm a sours fan myself," he answered as he grabbed a box of each.

Next, Owen bought a large box of popcorn from a concessions cart outside Jamba Juice. He then ushered her inside the smoothie shop.

"Same as last time?" he asked her with a wink. Claire honestly wanted something different, but she was tickled that he actually remembered her last drink order and just nodded her head.

Once back on Main Street, she felt a little dazed. "What now?" she wondered out loud.

He grinned, "We finish our drinks on the walk back to your place." It was Claire's turn to be nervous. As much as she enjoyed an efficient meal, she wasn't quite ready for dessert.

The walk to the resort complex seemed to last a lifetime. They didn't talk much between the thick crowd and thick smoothies. Claire kept herself mentally in check. She was giving Owen the benefit of the doubt and not predicting the worst of him. There was a point to the candy and popcorn. He wasn't just trying to worm his way into her apartment.

The Hilton lobby was relatively quiet. Claire felt like she could breathe again. Owen put his hand on the small of her back and whispered in her ear, "The concierge has something for you. Last stop of the scavenger hunt." She blushed as they walked in that direction, Owen's fingers splayed over her hip.

"Miss Dearing," the concierge greeted her before sharing a conspiratorial smile with Owen. "Your package." He passed her a small, red box tied with a bow. "And yours, Mr. Grady." Claire's jaw dropped as he pulled out a bottle of one of the finest reds on the rooftop restaurant's wine list. Owen was clearly pleased with her impressed reaction. He trapped her in his hazel irises for a moment, and the world fell away. "Do you require glasses?" the concierge asked, causing Owen to jump and Claire to let out a faint whimper.

"Uh, no," she stammered. "We're good."

When Claire turned on the lights inside her apartment, Owen remarked with surprise, "You didn't modify the interior from the rest of the hotel rooms?" She tried not to make assumptions about his familiarity with the interior of the Hilton's rooms. She failed.

"I like the designs," she answered, minimizing her arrogance. "I actually had input when it was renovated two years ago."

"Oh," he said sheepishly. "Sorry." He avoided making eye contact and looked around her space. Claire opened the bottle of wine and took two glasses out of her kitchen cabinet. "How long have you lived here?"

"Since the renovation," she replied. "That's when the employee apartments were added."

"Who else has them?"

"Henry Wu, Simon, and Zara and Alec. I had to fight for Zara's. They pushed to have her share Alec's mainland apartment, but I insisted that I needed her close."

"To be at your beck and call?" Owen was smiling, but Claire thought there was a hint of an insult buried in his statement.

"Actually," she almost huffed, "it's terribly difficult to keep pace with the Senior Assets Manager if you live on the mainland. I should know. I was the Assistant Assets Manager up until five years ago." She quirked a brow at him, and it was clear from his expression that he had no idea about her work history.

"You're all about efficiency," he smirked. They sipped from their glasses, and Owen pushed the red box towards her across the counter. "You still haven't opened it." His mouth curved into an exaggerated pout as he stepped close enough to put an arm around her waist. Claire was careful not to disrupt the bow as she slid the ribbon away. The box contained a Blu-ray copy of _North by Northwest_.

"Your favorite," she said with a warm smile.

"My copy, actually," he answered proudly.

"I'm flattered." She leaned into him. "The scavenger hunt makes sense now."

"I knew you'd need to be wined and dined." He held up his glass for a toast, and she reluctantly brought her glass to his. Her cheeks fought the smile that she had to force. Owen didn't seem to notice her tension and moved to load the movie into the player. Claire desperately wanted to believe that he was being genuine. She wanted to enjoy the high quality vintage of the wine and the cheesy but sweet movie snacks. She didn't want to continue worrying about his reputation. But she couldn't stop.

Claire's jitters manifested themselves by her being more vocal than usual during the movie. She genuinely enjoyed it from the start, and it delighted her to please Owen. To gratify him by liking something dear to him. She laughed loudly when Roger Thornhill's saucy, red-headed mother scoffed at his court hearing and Roger responded with an incredulous, "Mother!" Owen hugged her a little tighter but remained silent.

As they snuggled on her sofa, her vocalizations also served to keep Owen's hands at bay. Claire thrilled at his body against hers even as her internal conflict filled her to the brim. In the moment his fingers began sneaking under the waistband of her pants, she sprang forward and blurted out, "Why did he touch the knife?" She exaggerated her dissatisfaction with the dramatic scene in the United Nations to justify her startle response. She toned it down and teased, "I thought you said this movie was perfect."

"Almost perfect," Owen groaned and pulled her body back to him. His hand rested on her hip, fingers still. Claire relaxed.

She melted into him during the sultry exchange between Roger and Eve Kendall on the train. Claire bit her tongue to prevent herself from exclaiming predictions about Eve's character. When Eve said, "I never discuss love on an empty stomach," Owen nuzzled Claire's hair and whispered, "You relate to that, right?" Claire shivered at this touch but was slightly offended by the insinuation. Owen mirrored the onscreen seduction by stretching the limits of their own embrace, letting his fingers graze anywhere he could reach Claire's skin. He chuckled softly at her involuntary responses. Her little shudders and whimpers almost mimicking those of the female lead. Claire wondered if Owen would attempt to eschew the rest of the movie to further seduce her. She was honestly disappointed - even letting out a small sigh - when his hands settled with the tonal shift in the next scene. Oh, he was good. Two could play that game.

She didn't have to wait long to get Owen back. She ran a hand over his inner thigh when Roger asked Eve, "How does a girl like you get to be a girl like you?" Owen took a sharp intake of breath and followed it with a small grunt. Claire smiled smugly. That smile turned into a closed mouth laugh when Roger told Eve, "I bet you could tease a man to death without half-trying." Claire patted Owen's knee and said tauntingly, "Yeah, I can relate to her."

From that point on, Owen just held Claire close and enjoyed her twitching with the action of the movie. Claire agreed with his assessment of it and relished the return to his perfectly balanced behavior with her. She almost didn't want the movie to end, and only in part due to her nervousness about what the rest of the night might bring.

During the climactic chase scene atop Mount Rushmore, one of Eve's heels snapped off her pump, causing her to fall and get injured. Claire almost jumped off the sofa out of fear. Owen teased, "Wearing heels is treacherous."

"Today's heels are much sturdier," she scoffed as she recovered her composure. "That would never happen to me."

"Sure, Claire. Please try to keep quiet for the conclusion." He was being sarcastic, but it put her somewhat on edge.

Claire tensed further when Owen's fingers moved across her breast on top of her shirt at the movie's end. She thought the final image - a suggestive shot of a train entering a tunnel - was fitting for the characters and consistent with Owen's intentions. She fought to control the trembling in her voice and mused, "You were right. Practically perfect." Owen pounced quickly, shifting their bodies and nuzzling into her neck. He planted soft kisses there and panted, "You're perfect." She winced at this while struggling to control her physical response to his touch. It sounded more like a line than anything he previously said to her.

Just as he had done in her office, Owen flicked open her shirt buttons with extraordinary skill. His movements barely registered with her until she felt his hands on the lace of her bra and heard him moaning into her ear. Reality was getting hazy. She couldn't find the will to resist him at all. Before she knew it, his shirt was gone and he was pressing her into the sofa cushions. His kiss was ferocious. His body was hard and hot. It all felt amazing, but it was going too fast. She wanted to savor it more than he was allowing. As if reading her mind, Owen pulled back to look at her. She sighed, and they both caught their breath.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I told you that you do something to me." He sat back while straddling her and looked down at her with adoration. He ran his hands from her hips to her bra and gently squeezed her breasts simultaneously. They shuddered together in obvious pleasure. "Let's move to the bedroom." It was not a request. It sounded like an order.

"Maybe later," Claire said through hooded lids as she reached out to pull him back down. "Keep kissing me." She was desperate for his mouth on hers but wasn't ready to progress their activities yet. He froze momentarily then slid his hands down to her waist.

"Maybe?" Owen almost sneered. Her eyes flew open. He clearly took great offense to what she intended to be an innocuous remark. Perhaps it was a Freudian slip. He looked at her expectantly. She closed her eyes and pawed at him again. He responded by lightly gripping her wrists and pinning her arms. "Maybe or no?" It was Claire's turn to be offended. She wished she could keep her eyes shut and pretend he didn't ask this question. When she opened them, he was wearing that wounded expression from the Aviary. She didn't know what to say. She didn't enjoy being put on the spot and forced into answering. She wanted things to evolve naturally to the point where she'd feel comfortable with the outcome. When she wouldn't answer immediately, Owen let go of her wrists. He pulled himself off her and sat back against the sofa. He avoided making eye contact as she sat up. "I feel like I'm playing _The Sims,_ " he opined. Claire's brow furrowed. She knew that was a computer game but had never played it.

"What does that mean?" she asked sympathetically while taking his hand.

"Nothing." He let her go to retrieve his shirt from the floor. After he put it back on, he stood.

"Are you leaving?" Claire felt panicked. She recognized that she wasn't ready to sleep with him in this precise moment, but she didn't want their night to end here. Especially not like this. He still wouldn't look at her and started moving toward her front door. "Owen, please, I..." Her voice trailed off. She wasn't sure what she was begging of him, but she was definitely begging. It made her self-conscious.

He sighed and finally looked at her, "I want you...to catch up to me. I'm getting tired of waiting." She appreciated his honesty. That didn't mean, however, that she was going to compromise her own comfort or apologize for this. She walked up to him and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his lips. He initially resisted opening his mouth to her, but he clasped his arms around her when she started to pull away. Soon, he was kissing her deeply yet tenderly. Her shirt was still somewhere on the floor, and his hands seemed to scorch her bare skin.

Claire moaned loudly when he finally broke their long kiss goodnight. He stroked her cheek and gazed into her eyes. She read the conflict in his expression. "Thank you for tonight," she whispered.

"Anytime, gorgeous," responded Owen, softening in front of her. "I mean it."

"I know," she answered quietly. She wasn't saying it to appease him. She felt the truth of his statement. He gave her a quick peck on the lips before leaving her apartment.

* * *

Early Sunday morning, Claire was finishing up a live-streamed spin class on her Peloton when she received a text from Zara. It startled her and almost caused her to stop pedaling. Zara knew not to disturb her boss during this time, and Claire was extra on edge and frustrated after how she left things with Owen on Friday night. Throwing herself into work Saturday and putting the pedal to the metal in her bicycle sneakers this morning had yet to help her mood. Maybe Zara had a park emergency for her to resolve or someone to fire. Either of those could give her the rush she wasn't getting anywhere else. A rush she worried only Owen could provide.

While hopping off the bike, Claire read the full text: "Can you talk after your class? I want to show you something." Claire wrote back that Zara could come over. Her assistant was knocking on her apartment door less than five minutes later.

"That was fast," Claire smirked upon opening the door. Zara looked extremely nervous, and Claire became concerned that something happened with Alec. "Everything okay?"

"You may want to sit down," Zara answered as she plopped herself on the sofa and took her phone out of her pocket. Claire was still drinking from a glass of water and sat next to her. "Marisa Wilkinson posted a photo on Instagram last night."

Claire suppressed a groan and asked dismissively, "What color's her hair NOW?" Marisa was the definition of a party girl and constantly changing her hair, toggling between natural and garish hues.

"Red," Zara replied with a heavy sigh. She was almost trembling as she passed the phone to her boss. Claire was now feeling nervous herself and took another sip of water. Marisa worked in marketing. Claire and Zara mused on numerous occasions that Marisa was better at marketing herself than the park. At least Marisa put her strengths to good use and was always reliable for planning fantastic employee events. When Claire looked at the screen, she almost spit out the water in her mouth.

The photo was of Owen. It was a candid shot, and Claire guessed that he wasn't aware of it being taken. He was in profile and pulling his shirt down over his glorious six-pack abs - her body still humming from their feel on her less than thirty-six hours before. The caption read: "Get in line, ladies. Owen Grady is back, and his body is better than ever."

"Is that Marisa's bedroom?" Claire sputtered. It was probably a dumb question but the first that sprang to mind. Claire didn't have an Instagram account but knew from Zara that Marisa posted a lot.

"Based on her previous photos," Zara answered reluctantly, "yes." Claire wanted to dissolve into her sofa cushions. She squeezed her eyes shut but still saw the image in her head. She felt nauseated. "I'm sorry, Claire. We haven't even chatted about Friday."

"What's the point now?" Claire was embarrassed by how close she felt to tearing up. She wanted Zara to leave. She wanted to wallow in self-hate. When she finally reopened her eyes, Zara was looking back at her with a remorseful expression. It made Claire hurt more. "No, Zara. This is not your fault. It's who he is. I should've anticipated this."

"Will you see him again?" Zara asked hesitantly.

"I don't know. My ego is bruised right now." Claire was unnerved by Zara suddenly unlocking her phone and scrolling through photos. "Please don't show me anything else."

"Maybe you should be flattered," Zara said with a devious smile as she turned the screen toward Claire. It was a photo of Marisa, sporting a bob haircut eerily similar to Claire's but without bangs and in a deeper shade of red.

"You're kidding," Claire stammered. "This is her now?" Zara nodded. "Jesus Christ." She couldn't stop staring at the photo. She recalled Owen's comment at Nobu about other women wanting to be her. Was he specifically referring to Marisa? Claire fell back against the sofa. Her head swam. "Tell me something good."

"You still have that phone call with Qantas later today." Claire laughed. Zara's tone shifted back to being remorseful. "I'm sorry to be the messenger. Was it right for me to tell you?"

Claire bit her lip and turned toward her assistant with a sympathetic smile, "Yes. I'd rather hear it from you than someone else."

"For what it's worth, I haven't heard any gossip about the two of you. If you ended it now, no one would be the wiser." Claire swallowed hard. She knew that last statement wasn't true. She needed to be alone. Zara took the hint and excused herself. Claire resolved not to think about Owen any more today. Maybe not tomorrow either.

* * *

 ** _Thanks for reading. I hope it was easy to follow even for those readers unfamiliar with_ North by Northwest. _I did my best with the parallels I was trying to draw!_ _Please let_ _me know what you think of the developments to the relationship and my "cliffhanger" :)_**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Thanks so much for the continued support!**_

* * *

The week started busy. Claire and Zara barely saw each other and largely communicated via email and text. Claire was in her zone again. She thrived in the fast pace and high stress of her job. She had no time to ruminate on Owen or Marisa Wilkinson. She wasn't avoiding or escaping him either. She was honestly glad to have her focus back and not be distracted by him. Owen hadn't contacted her since he left on Friday. They had no future plans together. She felt foolish for falling into a trap of believing that she actually meant something to him. She didn't reach out to him. There was no way she would give him the impression that he meant something to her - even if he did. That kind of imbalance in a relationship was distasteful to Claire.

On Wednesday afternoon, Owen called her. She screened him out and sent it directly to voicemail. She didn't listen to his message until she got home in the evening. It simply said: "When are you free?" He sounded forlorn. It occurred to Claire that Owen used that phrasing a lot when making plans with her. This made it seem as if he was always deferring to her schedule. Waiting for her to give the okay. Just like he said on Friday night. At the time, she thought he was pouting and trying to make her feel bad after not getting what he wanted. Maybe there was more to it. She intimidated him. Was that it? If it was, it didn't make her feel powerful. For whatever reason, Owen Grady was the last person she wanted to intimidate. That's how it was between them from the beginning. Her special treatment was because he affected her differently from everyone else.

Claire didn't call him back. She didn't know what to say. Owen hadn't done anything to her, but she couldn't face him. For all she knew, he'd been sleeping with other women the entire time they'd been seeing each other. They hadn't been seeing each other long anyway. She could end it as Zara suggested, but Claire didn't want it to be over. Could she handle sharing him? Her response to Marisa's post indicated that she could not. Claire felt validated by Zara's response, too. Zara knew her well enough to recognize what she could tolerate.

Claire tossed and turned that night over whether she was being unfair to Owen. She knew about his patterns of behavior, his predilections, before she agreed to go out with him. She still went out with him. Still enjoyed his company. Even though they weren't exactly on the same page with regard to physical intimacy, she still craved it with him. She wanted to do more with him and soon. Then what was the problem?

As she sat in her office on Thursday, she realized the problem. Owen made her feel special and adored when they were together. Like she was the only person in the world. If he was doing that for other women, then she wasn't truly special. It was an illusion. She wanted his attentions and care to be hers alone. She was never the type to date multiple people at once, but she couldn't imagine dating someone else while seeing Owen. He was truly special to her. They only went out a few times, but she'd wanted him as long as she'd known him. When she finally got him, the reality quickly eclipsed her fantasies. Until she saw the photo on Instagram. The photo seemed to confirm her self-preserving suspicions about his motives.

When Claire returned home Thursday evening, she saw a text from Owen: "Can I see you tomorrow?" She bit down on her tongue in frustration. She was getting what she thought she wanted. He was chasing her. He wanted her. Why didn't it feel good? Why couldn't she be smug? Or feel powerful?

She considered her response carefully. She needed to be a mature adult. Ignoring him further was childish. She needed to communicate with him. Claire texted him back her honest answer: "I don't know if I can do this anymore." She could've called, but she feared she'd cave upon hearing his voice. He didn't immediately answer, so she went to bed. It was another restless night.

At noon Friday, Owen texted: "I want to talk." Claire was eating lunch at her desk and prepping for a one PM conference call. Moments after reading the text came a hard, familiar knock on her door. She sighed and decided it was best to have it out before the weekend. He didn't barge in but waited for her to grant permission. This was a nice change. He shut the door behind him and pulled up a chair to sit across from her on the other side of her desk.

Owen looked nervous and pained. She hated that she did that to him. She spoke first, "I know about Marisa Wilkinson."

"I figured," he smirked. "We never said we were exclusive, Claire."

"I know."

"Then, what's the problem?"

"I'm not seeing anyone else." Her voice started to wobble. "Have no intention of seeing anyone else." His facial expression indicated that this was not a surprise to him. Another distasteful imbalance.

He grinned slyly before revealing, "I was thinking about you." Claire was not amused. In fact, his statement made her sick and angry.

"Oh, Owen, say it again." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "That makes me so wet to hear." She crossed her arms. He sharpened his gaze at her.

"I have needs, Claire."

"Don't we all?" she sneered. "That's such a cliché. I take care of mine just fine." He scoffed audibly. They stared at each other for a long moment. Eventually, she relented, "I feel humiliated."

He shook his head and brushed her off, "You shouldn't. People know my reputation." Claire recognized a sting of hurt in his eyes. They had talked enough about each other's reputations. "Par for the course." She didn't appreciate his minimizing her feelings and couldn't mask her disappointment in him.

"This doesn't feel like 'having it all,'" she admitted sadly. Owen seemed to pick up on her reference to what he said at Nobu but remained quiet. "I'm not comfortable with it," she added firmly. There were at an impasse. Neither of them felt the need to apologize. Claire just wished he could be more sympathetic to her. She didn't predict this, any of it; how he could make her feel. She was still twisted up in knots. She looked away from him. "I don't want people thinking that...I'm not...satisfying you."

He shrugged his shoulders and said flatly, "You're not." Her anger surged. She couldn't see or think clearly. How dare he? He was a total louse after all. She was an idiot for ever thinking otherwise. She thanked her lucky stars that she hadn't slept with him.

Claire looked up and tried to remove the emotion from her voice as she said, "Get the fuck out of my office." It took all of her strength not to unleash rage on him. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction or turn into a cliché herself. Before he stood to leave, Owen captured her one last time with his eyes. His remorseful gaze was similar to Zara's on Sunday morning. Claire softened and mirrored it, regretting her decision to give him a chance. Hating herself but not him. This was her own doing.

He didn't say goodbye. He stood to leave, walked a normal pace, and shut the door as quietly as possible when he walked out. Claire suddenly wanted to curl up into the fetal position and weep. She felt pathetic. His words from their previous angry exchange in her office echoed in her head: "You ruined something fun." The last three weeks had been exhilarating. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt that way. Now, it was over. Maybe it was never meant to last. She bit off more than she could chew. She couldn't handle sharing him.

Life returned to normal for Claire. She settled back into her usual patterns. There was a sadness to her, however, that only Zara could appreciate. Zara didn't share any gossip and gave her boss space. Claire wished she could have a partner in life who understood her so well. She wondered if Owen could have become such a person for her. Her mind was cruel to her in sleep. She dreamed of his touch. She woke feeling lonelier than ever.

The following Friday was Owen's paperwork due date. Zara didn't have to say anything. Claire cringed at the thought of seeing him so soon. There was an unfamiliar knock on her door around five PM. Zara had already left for the day.

"Come in," Claire said distractedly while reviewing a spreadsheet on her computer screen. She looked up and saw Barry entering her office. "Oh, hi."

Barry laughed, "You look relieved." Claire blushed. She noticed the manila envelope in his hand. "How are you?"

"Fine," she answered, struggling to sound confident.

"Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional?" he teased.

"Good one. You fill in quite well for your boss." She was trying to be polite. It wasn't nearly as enjoyable to banter with Barry.

"No one's a good substitute for you." His tone was deadly serious. Claire was taken aback. "You shouldn't be surprised. I'm not." She gulped. "He's miserable."

"Serves him right," she replied after a deep breath.

"Probably, but I have to work with him every day." She concealed all emotion and didn't react. "Your Irish stoicism doesn't fool me." Something snapped inside her.

"I'm not enough for him, Barry," she hissed. He looked at her sympathetically. He had to know that was more than she usually disclosed about herself.

"I disagree," he answered matter-of-fact. "You're too much for him...or so he thinks. He's not used to working hard in his personal life. He prefers it easy."

Claire scoffed, "Then, why are we having this conversation?"

"Because he's my friend, and he doesn't always know what's good for him. You're similar in that way, non?" She bit her lip. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'" Barry paused to chuckle lightly. "Give him another chance."

She rolled her eyes and said, "He has to ask for one." Barry nodded and wished her a good weekend. She knew it would be a ruminative one with haunting dreams.

* * *

On Wednesday evening, Claire was waiting for a cab outside the Masrani building in San Jose when she received a text message from Owen. He asked if she was "still on the mainland." She huffed. How did he know her schedule? Was he still using Zara as an intermediary? It was the first time he'd contacted her since leaving her office almost two weeks ago. Unsolicited, Zara already informed her that Owen hadn't been spotted on the social scene since then. Claire wondered if Zara and Barry were in cahoots. She couldn't stop thinking about what Barry said in her office. It seemed that Claire and Owen intimidated each other in different ways.

What she told Owen during their last conversation was a deflection. The truth of the matter was that she felt inadequate to satisfy him, and it had very little to do with what other people thought about them. She wanted to be everything he needed. She wanted him to be everything she needed. Maybe she put too much pressure on them both. She felt like she'd become a detestable cliché. She didn't think she wanted or needed a relationship, but when the opportunity presented itself, she hungered for it. It wasn't just any relationship, however; it was specifically a relationship with Owen. Claire admitted that a relationship with anyone else wouldn't hold the same lure.

She responded to Owen's text with a simple "yes." He wrote back immediately, providing her with an address and asking her to meet him there. Claire groaned. She didn't want to go to some seedy, mainland dive bar. She quickly chastised herself for jumping to that conclusion but racked her brain over where else he might be at this late hour. When the cab pulled up to the curve, she gave the address from Owen. The driver laughed under his breath.

Claire searched the maps app on her phone for more information about her destination. "Brazilian jiu-jitsu?" she blurted out with surprise. The driver laughed again, but she didn't care. During the ride, she reflected on her behaviors with Owen. Her long-standing, to-go defensive play of preparing herself for the worst may have done her in. And, yet, she was still blind-sided by his hook-up with Marisa. Her defenses failed her spectacularly. The first time. If she was going to give this a second chance, she needed to behave differently.

She stepped out of the cab and peered into the martial arts studio's windows. Owen was sparring with another man. Both were dressed in traditional white uniforms, but Owen wore a purple belt at his waist while his partner wore a brown belt. Claire hesitated to open the door, not wanting to disrupt their concentration. She also became transfixed by Owen. Her heart ached as she realized how much she missed seeing him. She watched them take their fight to the mat. She felt her pulse racing in fear for him. He had been holding his own, but it was becoming clear that the other fighter had the upper hand. Owen yielded, and Claire had mixed emotions - glad it was over but wishing he had been victorious.

Owen's sparring partner noticed her first and pointed to the window. When Owen turned his head, he grinned from ear-to-ear. It made Claire blush then freeze in place, suddenly unsure of herself. The other man disappeared into a back room after exchanging friendly words with Owen, who motioned Claire inside. Owen stayed in the middle of the mat as Claire approached him.

"No shoes on the mat," he almost shouted. Claire rolled her eyes before kicking off her pumps. When she stood in front of him, his height combined with the jiu-jitsu uniform dwarfed her. Putting her at a significant disadvantage. She tried not to overthink it. "Thank you for showing up here," he said softly. "I missed you."

"Me, too," she answered in almost a squeak. She looked down out of embarrassment. Owen took one of her hands and entwined their fingers. There was an awkward silence. Claire examined his purple belt and noticed its two white stripes. She tugged at it with her free hand, eliciting a loud groan from him. It made her laugh and look up at him.

"Not a black belt yet?" she taunted. His gaze sharpened, and his mouth curled up on one side.

"A black belt in Gracie jiu-jitsu is very difficult to achieve," he replied bluntly. "If you're not training full-time, it can take decades." He pointed to the stripes with his free hand. "I'm working toward my third stripe. I can't even test for a brown belt until I have four."

"Is black right after brown?"

"Yes." She was impressed he'd gotten this far already with a demanding, full-time job. She bit her lip thinking about all his time spent on the mainland. It wasn't just for sex. His eyes suddenly filled with fire. He started to slowly walk forward, forcing her to move tentatively backwards. Owen's words were as slow and deliberate as his steps. "Advancing in the Gracie system takes practice, focus, persistence, skill, patience, and sacrifice." He stopped, and Claire realized that he'd pinned her to the wall. "It's kind of like wooing you." She took a sharp intake of breath as he hovered above her and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She felt goosebumps spread over her skin.

"Is it worth it?" she choked out while her legs felt close to giving way.

"I hope so," he teased. Owen breathed in deeply before asking, "Do you need this to be exclusive?"

"No," she was blunt, "but it is what I want." He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Okay. What do you need then?" In that moment, it was clear. There wasn't room for ambiguity in this second chance.

"Get tested."

"What?" He looked at her as if she had three heads.

"It's being a responsible adult." It was her turn to roll her eyes and shake her head.

Owen practically snorted, "We're not getting married, Claire. And I always use condoms."

"They're not foolproof, and you could've slipped up." She wasn't happy about his being dismissive of her very valid concern. "You asked what I needed."

"Okay," he relented. She smiled smugly then put her hands on his chest.

"What do YOU need?" she asked after licking her lips.

"You. Relaxed. Not worried that I mean you harm." Owen could obviously read her well. This imbalance wasn't distasteful to her. It was reassuring. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her.

"What do you WANT?" She brushed her nose against his.

"All of you." He was breathing hard.

"So, we want the same thing."

"Two apex predators," he sighed. "How are we going to make this work?"

Claire closed her eyes and whispered, "Together," before bringing her lips to his. He deepened the kiss while pushing her against the wall. His touch sent electrical shocks through her body everywhere his hands traveled. Just when she thought her knees might buckle, Owen's moaning with pleasure turned into grimacing with pain.

"What's wrong?" she asked with alarm.

"Fuck," he groaned. "It's my sports cup." He braced himself against the wall and looked down. "Damn." He winced then continued breathlessly, "It's very effective at protecting me from hits to the groin." Claire started to imagine how such sturdy construction would impact an erection.

She stopped herself from laughing but couldn't hold back from joking, "I guess it doubles as a chastity belt."

"That's a good one," he smirked. "I'm not even mad." He grimaced again and breathed out slowly. "Wait here. I'll change."

They walked silently to the ferry landing. Claire could tell that Owen was relaxed. They were holding hands, and he intermittently squeezed hers - as if to let her know that he was still there. It was adorable and endearing. While they waited for the ferry in the relative darkness, he turned to her and said, "I'm sorry I was such an ass in your office."

She leaned into him when she responded, "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you sooner than that day. I hated myself for being jealous. It wasn't fair to you." Owen put an arm around her as they stood in the moonlight, listening to the water lapping rhythmically against the dock. The moment was as close to perfect as anything Claire could imagine. An adult relationship. Maybe it could be better than her romance novels.

The next day, Claire was driving along the back roads of the park, making visits to various attractions. Her thoughts were not focused on work. She was thinking about Owen. His graceful touch while they rode the ferry. The tender but chaste kisses on the boat until she fell asleep in his arms. Their reluctant goodbye in the employee parking lot. Their plans to see each other on Saturday night. She was so distracted that she didn't realize how fast she was driving.

She took a turn too sharply and felt the tires skidding slightly in the dirt. Her heart raced, and her limbs trembled. By the time she noticed the downed tree stretched across the road ahead, her hands were still shaking. She knew it was too late to come to a complete stop. She slammed on the brakes, and her vision blurred with panic. Her last conscious thought was to swerve, so she turned the wheel to one side.

* * *

 ** _I warned that I don't make things easy for these two, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter nonetheless (and your hearts tolerate another cliffhanger). Please review!_**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Thanks for the strong response to the cliffhanger - the most dramatic one I've ever written :) The reward is a long (overdue and rating-changing) chapter..._**

* * *

Claire woke up in an unfamiliar bed. Her head hurt. She couldn't open her eyes. Her lids felt too heavy. There was something else. Swelling? She groaned. Her senses were slowly returning. She heard a steady beeping and felt warmth in her hand. Then, her senses overwhelmed her like a tsunami. She smelled Owen. Heard him saying her name. He sounded afraid. She felt him caressing her hand. Willing her awake? It was all so disorienting. Tears started leaking out of her eyes uncontrollably.

Owen was suddenly much closer and more afraid. "Claire, it's okay, I'm right here," he whispered as he stroked her hair and wiped away her tears.

"Where are we?" she asked hesitantly. As she regained her faculties, she was increasingly self-conscious and managed to stop crying.

"The infirmary. You were in a car accident. Can you open your eyes?"

"Do I want to?" she groaned. "Is it bad?"

"No," he chuckled lightly and kissed her cheek. "No broken bones. Just a concussion, bruises, and scrapes."

"How do you know..." Her voice trailed off as she opened her eyes. Owen looked terrible. It was similar to the concern etched into his features when he recognized her fear on the gondola lift. Only much deeper. He'd also been crying at some point. Claire's tears threatened to fall anew. "If I'm not in bad shape, why do you look like this?" She was half-teasing - to hold back both their tears and help him relax. Owen squeezed her hand and let out a long breath.

"You scared me, gorgeous." He finally flashed his twinkly-eyed smile, and she managed a grin herself. He could make her forget any horror with that smile.

"There you are," she sighed while squeezing his hand back. His body was so still, like a rock at her side. "How long have I been here?"

"A couple hours."

"How long have you been here?"

"I was already here when the medics wheeled you in," he answered quietly while avoiding her eyes. Claire didn't have time to process that statement or how it was delivered. The doctor suddenly appeared and was eager to speak with her. Owen sat back in a chair but didn't let go of her hand.

When Claire swerved, the driver's side of her car careened into the downed tree. Her side curtain airbag deployed but not the airbag inside the steering wheel. Dr. Adams believed she hit her head against the window, the steering wheel, or both as the car skidded. He confirmed what Owen said about no broken bones - her seatbelt and airbag saved her from significant injuries at the moment of impact with the tree. Claire could tell from Owen's face that he'd heard this explanation before. She was somewhat uncomfortable with his being privy to these details without her consent. She hoped he wasn't present when she was changed into the hospital gown she was currently wearing. She cringed at the thought of his watching while her urinary catheter was placed.

Dr. Adams wanted to keep her overnight for observation but anticipated that she could go home in the morning. Claire breathed a sigh of relief. He warned that she might develop one or two black eyes due to the effects of gravity on internal bleeding. A nurse would be bringing ice packs for her face now that she was awake. The doctor performed a quick exam then asked if she had any questions.

"Where's my phone?" she inquired. "I need to call my assistant."

"I already spoke to Zara," Owen interjected before pulling Claire's phone out of one of his vest pockets. "Here, you should let her know you're awake." She didn't know whether to be grateful or offended. She settled on grateful. She just wasn't used to this kind of attention. She broke her leg ten years ago in a skiing accident in Colorado, and not one person visited her at the hospital - let alone kept vigil. Owen stood and was wringing his hands as he looked out the window next to her bed. Dr. Adams excused himself from the room, and Owen almost jumped when Claire addressed him by name.

"Relax," she smirked. "I feel okay." She was actually in quite a bit of pain but didn't want to worry him further. "Why don't you get back to the paddock?" When he looked at her, his brow furrowed with concern once more. He was clearly torn. She hated feeling responsible for it. "Owen," she said with a warm smile, "kiss me goodbye before they cover me in ice packs."

He leaned down to kiss her lips, and it was the softest, most gentle touch he'd ever given her. Like he thought she'd break with anything stronger. He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes and whisper, "You don't have to pretend you're not in pain. I can tell." She swallowed hard and felt exposed. He gave her a knowing smile. "See you later, gorgeous." He nodded to the nurse as he walked out of the room. The nurse clearly mouthed, "You're welcome." Claire was momentarily unnerved but generally too self-conscious to focus on their exchange.

"Hello, boss," the nurse addressed her in a friendly but respectful tone. She was carrying ice packs in one hand and a small plastic cup in the other. Claire recognized the mid-forties, blonde woman from her double-duty as the island's CPR instructor.

"Hi, Bonnie."

"You look like you could use a Percocet," Bonnie teased.

Claire groaned then pouted, "I was told it wasn't so bad."

"It could've been a lot worse." The nurse chuckled as she watched her patient take the pain medicine. Claire fidgeted in the hospital bed. "I bet you also want that catheter out."

"You read my mind!"

A few minutes later, Claire was feeling much more comfortable despite catching a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. Her face was puffy and starting to bruise. The skin of her neck and arms marked up superficially. Hair matted like a rats' nest. She mused that Owen might've called her "gorgeous" ironically. She dreaded the thought of anyone - especially subordinates - seeing her in such a state.

"Anything else you need before I leave you to your spa mask?" asked Bonnie, grinning and pointing to the ice packs.

"Yes," Claire started hesitantly then took a deep breath. "No visitors tonight." Bonnie looked stunned. "I don't want to be disturbed." The other woman nodded, seemingly reluctantly, before stepping out. Prior to putting on her ice packs, Claire called Zara, who sounded very relieved. Zara reassured her that everything was under control and encouraged Claire to rest and take whatever time she needed away from the office.

"I'll do anything you need me to do, Claire."

"Thanks. Can you pick me up in the morning and take me home?" There was an awkward silence. Claire would've thought the call cut out if not for Zara's breathing.

"Me?"

"Of course you. You're my assistant. You can update me on park matters then, too." Silence again. Claire's anxiety spiked. "Why would you even ask that?"

"Well," Zara stammered, "I just thought you'd have Owen take you home."

Claire answered fast and defensively, "I don't want to trouble him further." She was taken aback. She and Owen had only reconciled the night before. Their link was still tenuous. He was coincidentally in the right place at the right time today. There was no need to rely on him. Claire scoffed audibly. She needed to focus on getting well and back to work. Besides, daydreaming about him caused her enough grief today.

Claire spent the remainder of the day and night in a fluctuating state of consciousness. At times, her mind was alert but her body was lifeless. Post-concussive symptoms mixed with the effects of opioids. She knew the infirmary staff changed at some point and recognized that the night shift workers were less friendly on rounds. When she heard the young nurse, Darlene, and a nurse's aide enter her room in in the middle of the night, Claire pretended to be asleep. She also didn't have the energy to put up a facade.

Darlene spoke in a hushed but dismissive tone, "I never thought I'd see the day when Owen Grady was sweet on someone, especially not a frosty bitch who refuses to see him."

"Shhh, you'll wake her," the aide whispered nervously.

"I don't care," Darlene snorted. "Serves her right. I would let that man do anything to me, anytime."

Claire felt jolted to full awareness but couldn't find the strength to roll over and glare at them. She wondered if Owen had just been there or if it had been some time ago. She didn't think he was going to come back tonight. Or did she? Was the visitation restriction directed at him? Her head hurt. She didn't want to think about it now.

The next morning, Bonnie came into her room with discharge instructions and more pain medication. She seemed on edge. Claire herself was anxious to get home.

"I hope I didn't make a mistake yesterday," Bonnie eventually stuttered. Claire looked at her quizzically. Everyone was either catching her off guard or walking on eggshells around her. "I mean...with regard to Mr. Grady."

"Huh?" Claire hummed in surprise.

"When they brought you in yesterday, I thought you were the luckiest woman on the island, surviving the accident relatively unscathed and having him to watch over you."

Claire almost scoffed as Darlene's words echoed in her head. "I know," she muttered in annoyance and rolled her eyes. "He's quite the desired bachelor around here." Bonnie's countenance shifted to one of confusion mixed with offense.

"That's not what I meant, Claire." Bonnie sighed. "He looked so distraught. Dr. Adams didn't want to let him in your room because he wasn't listed as family or an emergency contact. I figured you just hadn't updated your records. I assumed it would be okay for him to..." Her voice trailed off. Claire felt a pang of guilt and sympathetically touched the nurse's shoulder. "I didn't let him in here until all your tests were done and you were tucked into the bed."

Claire smiled, "Thanks, Bonnie. You didn't make a mistake. I liked waking up to him." The other woman relaxed and breathed out.

"He wasn't going to leave until you woke up anyway," Bonnie replied with a smirk. "Did the night nurse tell you he came by while you were asleep?"

"I overheard," Claire grumbled with obvious disdain in her voice.

"We don't usually let folks visit after patients have gone to sleep, but she mentioned your specific restriction on visitors regardless." Claire guessed that Darlene told him out of spite and jealousy. Bonnie winced, "He was...upset and almost punched a hole in the wall."

"What?" exclaimed Claire.

"Yup," Bonnie replied. "You'll notice his 'impression' on your way out the door." They laughed together. Before leaving, the older woman added, "Take care of yourself, boss, and Mr. Grady, too."

* * *

Claire thought about Owen all day. Conjured his distraught face in her head. Pictured the dent he left in the infirmary wall. She also ruminated on everyone else's behaviors with regard to him. Zara didn't mention him once on the ride home, but he was the unspoken thing hanging in the air. Claire wanted to see him. Thank him. Let him know she was okay. But she was afraid he'd be upset with her. She was being stubborn, too. Every time her finger moved to call his number, she reminded herself that she was the one injured. He should be checking on her. He only tried once, and she was asleep anyway.

At seven PM, there was a knock on her door. Claire practically leapt over her sofa to open it. Her eager expression morphed into one of disappointment when she discovered Zara on the other side.

"Not who you wanted to see?" Zara asked sarcastically with a laugh. She sighed and passed Claire a manila envelope. "He came to the office a bit ago, looking flummoxed. I think he half-expected to find you there. When I told him it was early for paperwork from Research, he said it was 'personal.'" Zara surprised Claire by pulling her into an tentative hug. "Call him, for God's sake." The blessing of an assistant who knew her ins and outs was boundless. She was only beginning to appreciate the blessing that was Owen Grady.

"I know," Claire whispered with a sniffle. She suddenly found herself on the brink of hysterical crying. She couldn't continue to let her vanity and pride get the best of her.

As soon as Zara left, Claire tore into the envelope. It contained a letter size white envelope stamped with "Confidential patient information." Owen had affixed a post-it note to the back that read: "This is why I was at the infirmary." She almost seized with the deep understanding that clenched her insides. He was there to get tested. For her. He ended up staying. For her. He thought he might lose her. She judged herself for living up to Darlene's "frosty bitch" moniker. Claire worried she might lose him.

When she pulled out her phone this time, she didn't hesitate. Owen picked up after two rings. He sounded exhausted.

"Hi, Claire. Are you o-"

"I want you to come over," she interrupted emphatically.

"Oh, suddenly you want to see me?" he snipped petulantly. "Visitors are allowed now?" His voice betrayed a deeper hurt and bitterness.

"So help me God, Owen, if you don't come over here, I will drive to you." She heard his sharp intake of breath and smiled smugly. She spooked him good.

"No." He sounded panicky. "Stay where you are. I'll be right there." Claire laughed to herself after he abruptly ended the call. She was relieved that he didn't call her bluff. She still wasn't ready to drive and didn't even have a car.

Claire paced her apartment while she waited. It seemed to take him an eternity. She grew impatient. When you want to tell someone something very important, you want to tell them right away. She just didn't want to have the conversation over the phone. She wanted and needed him there with her. When he finally arrived, she jumped at his familiar knock and almost dropped the unopened envelope that remained in her hand. No sooner than she had flung open the door did she throw her arms around him. She ignored his tense stance and stoney expression. He returned her embrace without hesitation and melted into her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "for pushing you away." Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she gazed up at him. "Owen, I-" He stopped her with a tender kiss that was only slightly less gentle than the parting one he gave her at the infirmary. It warmed her heart that he was still worried about breaking her.

"Let's sit down, Claire." He took her free hand and led them to her sofa. After they were sitting, he marveled at her for a long moment. "You're healing well," he eventually said with a lopsided grin. She blushed at the thought of her slight black eye on one side. When he reached out to caress her cheek, she gasped at his touch. He immediately pulled back with a fearful expression.

"No, Owen," she said reassuringly. "I want you to touch me." She never wanted him as much as she did in that moment. She smoldered, ready to lunge for him. He sighed and fingered the envelope jutting out of her hand.

"Is this why, Claire?" He looked and sounded wounded. "You finally got what you needed?" He looked away from her. "Would you have called me if Zara hadn't brought it to you?"

"I didn't even open it," she answered firmly. "The literal results aren't what I needed. This just got you there. What I needed, all along, was you." He locked eyes with her. "You concerned about me. Caring about me. It was so strong on your face that it reflected in everyone else's." His features were now etched with mixed emotions. Claire's heart pounded. She wanted to make him happy. Not twist him into knots as well.

"Then why did you freeze me out?"

"It was overwhelming...and frightening to me. I don't think I deserve that." The frustrated look on Owen's face told her that he didn't agree with her statement. "I don't need that either," she added with a huff. Claire surmised that Owen already knew this about her. It was likely one of the things that drew him to her. He finally flashed his twinkly-eyed smile. Her heart skipped a beat. She may not have needed it, but it sure was wonderful. He pulled her into his lap and held her against his chest. She thrilled at being sheltered in his arms. She relaxed but had to further explain herself. Claire didn't want anything hanging over her when she slept with him. "I also blamed you for my accident."

"What?" He sounded genuinely alarmed and hugged her tighter.

"I wasn't paying attention to the road. I was lost in my thoughts about you." She groaned and started to ramble. "This is why I avoid relationships. It's my issue, and I..." Her voice trailed off when she felt his chest vibrating with laughter.

"I get it, Claire." He gently pushed against her shoulders to look her in the eye. "I avoid relationships for similar reasons. It's messy to have other people in your life." He ran his fingers through her hair. "It almost killed me worrying about you yesterday, but - like the black belt - you're worth it." He started kissing her neck, and his hot breath there gave her chills - the good kind. "You're deserving of my worry." He moved to pull the envelope out of her grip.

She cleared her throat as they played tug of war. "So," she said in a sultry tone, "nothing to worry about?" He finally wrested it from her hand and tossed it on the coffee table.

"Just syphilis and crabs," he teased.

"Oh, good. Gonorrhea was the dealbreaker." They shared a brief chuckle before Owen gazed at her with complete seriousness. His hands stilled.

"Are you sure you're up for it? So soon after the accident?" His willingness to hold back aroused Claire even further. She was straddling him just as she had on the gondola lift and tensed her thighs. She leaned forward to kiss him soundly on the lips.

"I can't wait, Owen." Another kiss. "You'll just have to be gentle." And another. "I'll have to be on top." He growled and ran his hands underneath her shirt. As his touch sent shockwaves through her skin, her kisses became sloppier. He managed to unhook her bra and slip both hands beneath the cups. She almost collapsed forward as his thumbs kneaded her nipples. The pace was good. She could savor it. This is what she wanted for their first time. They could do it fast and rough later.

Owen pulled away slightly to look her in the eye. Her black eye. He looked pained. "I need to see all your injuries, Claire. I can't hurt you further."

"You just want a striptease," she taunted. He didn't need to answer. She felt his response between his legs. Heard his grunt. The idea excited her, too. He groaned when she pulled out of his lap. She took his hand and led him to the bedroom. It was almost surreal to her. She'd fantasized about it for so long.

He flipped on the light switch and dropped her hand. He motioned for her to disrobe. It was slightly awkward with her bra already undone, but Claire managed to make a show of it - one piece at a time. His breathing became more ragged with each article of clothing dropping to the floor. When she was fully naked, she twirled very slowly. By the time she was facing him once again, he had traversed the space between them. The flecks of green and gold in his eyes radiated with passion. She almost lost her breath and fell backwards onto the bed. Almost but no. It was his turn. She found the strength to nod her head and quirk a single brow. He understood.

Owen stepped back to remove his shirt. Claire took the opportunity to sit on the edge of her mattress and crawl slowly backward. Teasing him as she took in his display. It might have been unromantic with the light on, but it was incredibly erotic to watch him slowly removing his clothes. She couldn't wait to get her hands on him. She found herself holding her breath after he kicked off his jeans and moved his hands to the waistband of his black boxer briefs. She whimpered when he paused. She looked up at the cocky grin plastered across his face.

"Who's the tease, now?" said Claire, catching her breath. She lost it again with his next fluid motion. If her jaw could've dropped to the floor, it would've. She had a deeper understanding of Owen's cockiness and popularity with women. She momentarily worried about being split in half. He must've noticed the flicker of concern and chuckled. Claire realized she was staring and moved her eyes to meet his. Her blood boiled with desire.

Owen was literally on the prowl now, stalking her across the mattress until his face hovered over hers. The blunt tip of his erection touching her outer folds sent shudders all over her body. His expression was lust laced with reverence. Her heart might've beat out of her chest if not caged. No one had ever looked at her like that. She was imbued with an incomparable sense of strength and power. She took a stuttering breath as he began to plant soft kisses on her injuries, starting with her black eye. His lips felt like firecrackers igniting on her skin. He found all her cuts, scrapes and bruises. He used his hands to bring her nipples erect as he traveled down her body. He didn't miss an inch of her skin.

When Owen stroked her clit with his thumb, Claire practically jumped off the bed, forcefully arching her back. He took the opportunity to gracefully flip her on the mattress to seek out any marks on her back. While propping herself up on her elbows, she was almost driven to the brink - mewling embarrassingly - by the head of his dick leaving a trail of moisture along her skin. By the entire length of it twitching in anticipation as he moved over her. His thumb returned to her clit as he finished his "scavenger hunt." She was wet and delighting in his touch but also getting frustrated. Turnabout is fair play, and she wanted her chance to touch him.

"Enough," she groaned loudly. He pulled away, and she rolled over to face him. His pupils were blown wider than she'd ever seen in a man. Without breaking their intense eye contact, Claire reached into her nightstand for a condom. She had them there from their last date. Owen was obviously impressed. He had to know they were only for him. She watched him put on the latex with jealousy. She wanted to do the honors next time.

"Switch places with me," she demanded hungrily. He crooked an index finger at her with a devious, come hither smile. She sat up until they were facing each other on their knees. His rock-hard column creating a perch between her legs. She ran her hands over his stubbled jawline while his hands moved along the sides her body. He started to rock his hips slightly to rub the same sensitive spot where his thumb had been. It started hot but became torturous. Her hands trailed down his neck until her nails were digging into his shoulders. She grew impatient again and growled, "On your back."

He cackled with delight and squeezed her ass, "I knew I could improve your dirty talk." She remembered his teasing on the dock. The day he first planned to ask her out.

"I'm not the cock block today," she hissed as she slapped his ass. He grunted and then swiftly rolled their bodies. It seemed like a jiu-jitsu move she'd witnessed the other night. Only this time, Owen clearly had the upper hand.

In a flash of ecstasy, he was on his back and mounting her on top of him. Firecrackers morphed into fireworks as she stretched to accept him inside her. He immediately started grinding into her. Claire knew she would've fallen forward if he hadn't been gripping her hips. Her first orgasm burst her open like a broken dam. She didn't care that she'd cracked under pressure. It was mind-blowing. He prolonged the sensations by thrusting deeply while her walls convulsed around him. She braced herself against his abs.

"Mine," she said breathlessly in a husky voice that didn't seem like her own. They locked eyes again. Both possessive of the other.

"Yours," he choked out through a moan of pleasure. He kept pumping while she found her second wind.

She knew he would be good. Hell, she knew they would be good. This was above and beyond her wildest imaginings entirely. She ached to push him to the same precipice, where they'd go over the edge together. Claire gradually pulled herself back up and rode him like a champion. His rhythm complemented her own. They fit perfectly. She ran her hands over his chest and abs, tracing every muscle. She understood what Owen meant when he said he couldn't stop touching her. Now that she'd been granted access to his amazingly cut body, she didn't know how she'd be able to keep her hands off him.

Furthering their synchronization, his hands reached for her: one to fondle her breasts, the other to rub her clit. His strokes weren't gentle. His touch was overflowing with need. Need to release. Owen's eyes were closed. Claire deduced that he was struggling to contain himself while she caught up. It didn't take long. They reached the peak of sensation in unison, each crying out the other's name. She felt every inch of him, thick and pulsing inside her, as she came. She allowed herself to fall fully onto his chest.

Her mouth suddenly needed his. It was mutual. They clambered together into a wet and desperate kiss. Owen maintained a gentle hold to remain inside her. He remembered the locations of her injuries, taking care to avoid them. Claire pulled out of the kiss to rest her cheek on his chest. She indulged in the sound and feel of his racing heartbeat. She did that to him, just as he was responsible for making her feel exhausted and sated in a way unlike any other.

His chest vibrated with a soft chuckle when he finally spoke, "Oh, we are gonna be doing it like rabbits once you're fully healed." Claire laughed out loud thinking about her Jack Rabbit vibrator. "You don't agree?" Owen sounded mildly offended by her outburst.

"I do agree," she smirked, "but that's not it. I'll explain later." She rolled off him and settled into his side. She ran a hand languidly over his six-pack. She would knock down any ladies who were getting in line for a piece of them. "I guess you're satisfied now."

He seemed pensive and eventually sighed, "I never should've said that." He kissed her forehead as he wrapped his arms around her. "I had no idea." Claire almost purred in response. This was beyond satisfying to her. It was sublime.

"You're worth it, too, you know," she said softly then added with a self-conscious blush, "Not just because of the sex." He beamed at her with pride.

"I knew what you meant, gorgeous. Sleep now, okay?" He left her side briefly to turn out the light. As soon as he returned to the bed, they nuzzled into each other. Drawn together like a moths to a flame. She was tired but in no pain. There was something truly magical about being cradled by Owen. It likely had a lot to do with the fact that she affected him in the same way. Balance.

* * *

 ** _Review! Review! Review!_**


	8. Chapter 8

**_I apologize for the delay and appreciate readers' understanding - it's been a wild week. Thanks for the continued support._**

* * *

Claire had never slept so soundly. Just like in the infirmary, it took a few moments to fully regain her senses when she awoke. Then, it hit her like a ton of bricks. If the ton of bricks was a furnace-hot mass of naked, firm muscles cocooning her and smelling of sex. She more than liked waking up to him. She never wanted to wake up any other way. She felt more than muscle at her backside, too. It was emboldening, and she wouldn't let it go to waste.

"Are you awake?" she whispered through a lustful grin.

"Mmm-hmmm," Owen hummed between planting kisses on her shoulder.

"Don't move." Claire was thankfully lying close enough to the edge of the bed to reach into her nightstand drawer. It took a little straining, but she was assisted by his slight push - or rather, poke. He didn't need to be told. He also clearly enjoyed her gasp in response. She passed him the condom and sighed while rocking back against him.

He grunted and said in a low voice, "The things you do to me." His hands caressed her skin possessively. When one hand dipped between her legs, she gasped again. "The things I'm going to do to you." His mere presence made her wet. His fingers threatened to turn her into a puddle.

"Bury yourself in me," she moaned, her voice thick with need. Claire closed her eyes, deferring to her other senses as she felt overloaded with yearning. She was very quickly over-filled as well. She bit down hard on her lip to prevent a scream from escaping her throat. She didn't want him to misconstrue it as pain. He was just so big and pushing deep into her slick folds. The shock subsided, and the only sensation was pleasure. Pure. Raw. Greater than anything before this moment - difficult to fathom after their phenomenal first time! Her pulse pounded at the idea that they would continue to get better and better together. She rocked her hips harder against him.

"Fuck, Claire. This is good." One of his hands traveled to her breast while the other maintained its grasp on her hip for leverage. His hold was firm but tender. His breathing steadily harsher. She reached back to run her nails across his scalp and tug his hair lightly.

"Better than good," she choked out. "Fantastic." At that, he picked up his pace and moved his hand down her body. He was more than fantastic. His touch was almost - dare she believe it - loving. She had no basis for comparison. Before she could ponder it further, his fingers were rolling her clit, and her head fell backward. Her mind emptied. Primal desire consumed her. They climaxed and tumbled down together. Claire felt as if she was seeing stars, yet it had nothing to do with her head injury.

Owen pulled her flush against him and whispered gruffly into her ear, "Mine." She never thought she'd enjoy being conquered by someone, but she couldn't deny his complete possession. Or her satisfaction with it. The things he did to her, indeed.

"Yours," she panted. His head dropped onto her shoulder, so she leaned hers against it. She was desperate to look into his eyes. Kiss his lips. She missed seeing the ecstasy on his face. Her effect on him.

After catching his breath, he asked, "Did I hurt you?" She began to roll over and whimpered at the loss of him from inside her. It was almost like losing her own limb. Was she really feeling that strongly about him? She blushed at the thought. Maybe she had just been that hard up. When she finally saw him smiling down on her, the blush spread throughout her entire body. It wasn't just her post-orgasm state. Owen stirred something profound in her. She didn't want to overthink it. Not right now, at least. Their moment was too perfect. He looked at her expectantly. She forgot that he'd asked her a question.

"No," replied Claire, stroking his cheek. "Far from it." He visibly relaxed and gently kissed her black eye before kissing her lips.

"My dad gave my mom a shiner once," Owen spoke with an earnest expression and pain in his eyes. "Only once. I never forgot his face when he looked at her the next morning. It taught me the meaning of remorse."

"I'm sorry, Owen. When I said I blamed you for my accident, I didn't mean-"

"I know, Claire. Just telling you where my mind goes." The pain in his eyes melted away. What replaced it was arresting. Breathtaking. Something else she didn't think she deserved. "I don't ever want to hurt you. You deserve to be worshipped." She expected him to kiss her, but he just continued to gaze at her. It surprisingly didn't make her self-conscious. She considered whether this was even better than the sex.

He quickly pecked her lips before hopping out of bed to dispose of the spent condom. She took a deep breath and pulled the bedsheet over herself as she laid on her back. She had an excuse not to work today but wouldn't be presumptuous about his schedule. It didn't stop her from daydreaming about what they could do with their time. "Where's my competition?" asked Owen, startling her. He wore a playful grin and gave side-eye to her nightstand.

Claire couldn't control her turning bright red and stuttered, "What?" She hoped he didn't mean what she thought he meant. He quirked a brow. She was mortified. He moved to open the same drawer where she kept the condoms. "No!" She lunged for him awkwardly while trying to keep the bedsheet around her. She didn't make it in time. Owen clicked his tongue as he picked up the pink vibrator with the rabbit head clitoral stimulator. She could tell that he was suppressing laughter.

"I bet this does take care of you 'just fine'," he teasingly parroted her words from their last conversation in her office. "It gives new meaning to 'doing it like rabbits.'" His laughter burst out. Claire wanted to hit him. Her eyes narrowed. He stopped laughing and cleared his throat. His expression shifted, and she recognized his wanton stare. As he put the vibrator back in the drawer, he pulled out a fresh condom. "You're not going to need that anymore." He gave new meaning to the phrase "bedroom voice." She wasn't going down easy, however.

"I don't know," she taunted. "It's been in my life for a long time and always reliable."

"Oh, I'm reliable," replied Owen, moving stealthily towards her across the bed.

"You'll need to prove yourself." She was holding herself together by a single thread of self-control. He stopped short of kissing her and simply rubbed his nose against hers. She held her breath.

"In the meantime..." He smiled devilishly then caught her off guard by passing her the condom. The moment his hands were empty, he lifted her body free of the sheet and sat her astride him. Her heart raced. Her head spun. Playtime was over. He put his hands behind his head and licked his lips. "Have your way with me, gorgeous."

* * *

Owen went to the paddock for several hours while Claire napped. She wasn't exactly sure if she slept. It was a perpetual, dream-like state of replaying their sexual escapades in her mind. She had her way with him alright - even giving him a taste of his own medicine by slowly planting gentle kisses on his jiu-jitsu bruises and "battle scars." Their connection in the bedroom was harmonious. She didn't want to leave the mattress, for fear of losing any piece of that connection to him. She intermittently giggled about her reluctance to sleep with him. Maybe it made it better. Sweeter.

Claire wondered if it felt as earth-shattering to him as it did to her. She could tell that he was holding himself back because of her injuries. She didn't want to be insecure about it. She ultimately decided that it meant they'd have a rich sex life. They could be satisfied doing it in all sorts of ways. She still couldn't get over how good they were together. Her sexual history must've been a novella compared to his encyclopedia, but they were somehow well-matched.

When Owen returned, he brought Sunrio carry-out, a DVD, and an overnight bag. Claire was over the moon. She wasn't even the least bit off-put by his presumptuousness. She wanted to wake up in his arms again. That, and she had already postponed the inevitable by telling by Zara that she needed one more day to "rest." Zara, as always, was very perceptive and wished her boss a "glorious day of shagging." Claire craved a fantasy Sunday with Owen before returning to the reality of work. This prioritization of a man over her job would have been incomprehensible to her a week ago, but their astounding sexual chemistry overrode all else in that moment. Part of her also recognized that their connection was far from superficial.

Owen looked supremely happy as he strode into her kitchen. No conflict apparent whatsoever. There was something light and carefree in his demeanor that she'd never witnessed before. She felt responsible. It made her supremely happy - better yet, if she was being totally honest, blessed. He greeted her with the most delicious kiss of her life. His hands still held her gently, but his tongue was aggressive. He pulled away to look at her. Those flecks of green and gold had the power to transform her into a puddle, too. Yes, she definitely felt worshipped. Like a priceless treasure he'd uncovered after a long, perilous journey. She hoped that wasn't just a projection of her own feelings.

Claire assembled the place settings while Owen started unpacking the bag of food. "How did you know what to get?" she asked with surprise. The staff at Sunrio brought dinner to her office about once a week, and she always ordered the fish tacos. It was special treatment because the restaurant didn't advertise a delivery option. Owen stood behind her at the kitchen counter and put his arms around her waist. "Zara?"

"She recommended it," he whispered, "but the manager knew your 'usual.'" He nuzzled her hair and inhaled deeply. "Even gave it to me gratis because of your accident." Claire tensed, and Owen kissed her cheek. "Everyone's wishing you a speedy recovery."

"Everyone knows?" she asked hesitantly. As the question popped out, she realized that it didn't only apply to her accident. She was suddenly very curious if, in the last 48 hours, word had spread about the two of them.

"You're ubiquitous - of course people know when you're MIA. It's also a pretty dramatic event to happen to any park employee." He paused. "And some people know about us. Mostly, it's my staff...and the manager at Sunrio." Claire turned around to look at him, and he was grinning ear-to-ear. It was the kind of glee that's tough to hide. It made her knees weak. She hugged him tightly and inhaled his scent deeply.

Owen did most of the talking over dinner. Claire was content to listen and avoid thinking about her own worries. He related that the raptors were getting increasingly defiant with Barry. Barry joined Project IBRIS after the critical imprinting period and had yet to develop a deep bond with the pack. Owen knew that the girls would never follow commands from Barry like they did from him, but he worried that they didn't respect and would perpetually challenge Barry. Oftentimes, Barry was a glorified - and clearly disheartened - assistant rather than a co-trainer. Owen's face betrayed a sense of defeat. His concerns went beyond Barry. He recognized how smart the raptors were becoming and verbalized a fear that they would reach a point of not being direct-able at all.

"When I'm there, at least, they listen," he said.

"Don't just feed into their bullshit," Claire interjected astutely. Owen gave her an annoyed look. She didn't back down. "They won't learn to respect someone else if you're always stepping in."

"I raised them," he spat back defensively. "I know them the best."

"That won't change if you allow Barry more leeway. You'll still be the Alpha."

"You think I'm threatened by Barry?" He scoffed.

"No." Claire's eyes slitted. "But if you're already convinced that they'll never listen to anyone else, you're setting yourself and the research project up for disaster." He clearly wanted to protest, but she was right. His lips pursed. A warm smile spread across her face. She added in a teasing tone, "Besides, you'd end up being at the paddock all the time."

Owen softened and smirked, "Says the woman who goes into her office and the control floor every day." Her face scrunched up in response. They stared at each other in silence for a beat.

"I understand feeling like you can't delegate," she eventually sighed. "I'm guilty of that, for sure, but..." Her voice trailed off as she took hold of one of his hands. "There's more to life than being a workaholic." He raised his eyebrows at her. She was startled by this admission herself, but it felt right. Everything felt right in that moment. She smiled at him and shrugged. "You do things to me."

They settled onto the sofa with the DVD that Owen brought: _On the Waterfront_. It was another classic film that Claire had heard of but never seen. Owen commented on his continuing to open her world to new things. She was delighted to discover that it was Eva Marie Saint's first role, as Edie. Owen said he picked it for that reason. Claire had been quite taken with the actress after _North by Northwest._ While they watched the leads falling in love, Claire was struck by the parallels to her own relationship. She laughed when Marlon Brando's character, Terry, told Edie, "I'm not gonna bite you." She pulled up to kiss Owen after Edie said of Terry, "He tries to act tough, but there's a look in his eye."

Claire was significantly more relaxed this time around compared to their last movie. She didn't jump or blurt out her responses to the action. She let Owen put his hands wherever he wanted without flinching or pulling back in the slightest. He hummed in satisfaction as he reached into her camisole to play with her breast. She parried by slipping her hand down the front of his pants. He flinched as she stroked him over his briefs. He let out a guttural moan and teased, "We are definitely doing it after this movie. It's not a maybe."

At the end of the film, Owen adjusted their bodies on the sofa much more gently than he had done on their first movie night. Gone was his sense of urgency that had loomed like an oppressive shadow the previous night. Claire's anxiety was also nowhere to be found. He cupped her face with both hands before starting to kiss her. They had already worked each other up, so it was Claire who felt ready to push harder. She kissed him back more roughly than ever. Her hands moved under his shirt to touch him and make an attempt to pull off the garment. He laughed a little into her mouth.

"So eager," he teased.

"Maybe," she taunted him in response. With that, he picked her up and carried her bridal style into the bedroom. She felt him shuddering as she kissed his neck and trailed her hands wherever on his body they could reach. "I don't know where my feet are anymore," she whispered, referencing a line from _On the Waterfront_.

"You're floating," Owen whispered back. "Just like me."

* * *

"Do you really have to go to work today?" groaned Claire, tracing a scar on Owen's arm while lying on his chest. "Let Barry be in charge today."

"I'll give Barry more 'leeway,'" he replied, "but I still have to go to the paddock. Not everyone is on sick leave." She let out a heavy sigh.

"You're not allowed to get any more of these." She planted a soft kiss on the scar.

"No promises. Hazard of the job." He rolled their bodies to kiss her on the lips. "You, on the other hand, are not allowed to damage yourself in any way." He ran a hand down her bare back, giving her goosebumps. "Your skin needs to be perfect and unblemished." When he kissed her again, she winced over-dramatically. "What?"

"If you want me to stay unblemished," she teased, "then you need to shave. Your stubble irritates my sensitive skin."

"Fair enough," he laughed. "That means I'll have to spend the night at the bungalow."

Her mouth drooped into an exaggerated pout before she shrugged and said, "Sacrifices." One side of her mouth quirked up. "I could always spend the night with you there."

"Nah," he answered quickly, "you should be comfortable. My place is small and...lacking amenities." He avoided her eyes.

"I can manage. I'm not some stuffy princess."

He stammered, "No, no, that's not what I meant. You're injured and can't drive out there on your own." She wasn't buying his excuses.

"So, you need to clean up your man cave?" Claire dead-panned. "Or is it a 'no women allowed' kind of hideaway?"

"You're allowed." He paused to stroke her cheek. "You just deserve better, especially right now." He kissed her black eye. "It's already starting to fade." Claire gathered that Owen was trying to distract her, but she let it go for now. He would soon be leaving her bed - she wanted the enjoy the time they had left. She snuggled into his seemingly boundless warmth. "When is Dr. Adams seeing you for follow-up?" She reveled in this genuine concern.

"Friday afternoon at the mainland employee clinic."

"Damn, we'll just miss each other." He pulled her close then continued saucily, "You can spend that night at the bungalow, assuming you're medically cleared."

"For what, exactly?" she asked in a playful tone.

"Rough-housing." He smoldered, and Claire felt warm all over.

"You'll have to save some strength after your training then."

"I have plenty of stamina, gorgeous." Owen kissed her fiercely albeit briefly. He hopped out of bed to get dressed, and she admired the view. They'd already discussed his plans to train at the jiu-jitsu studio several evenings this week. He hoped to earn his third, and possibly fourth, stripe very soon. He told her that the black-belted owner of the studio could choose to bestow one or two stripes at a time. She didn't want to discourage Owen or seem unsupportive, but she'd miss him. It bothered her a little bit that she was getting so attached. Fortunately, she knew it was mutual. Unfortunately, the bubble she'd been living in for the past few days was about to burst, in more ways than one.

After his obviously reluctant departure from her apartment - evident by his jumping back into bed with her when he was half-clothed - Claire decided to start catching up on work emails. Several hours went by in a flash as she fell back into her groove. It felt good to be productive, but her main motivation was to avoid feeling clobbered on Monday. Zara stopped by at the end of the day to review key meetings scheduled during the week and to gossip.

"Word has spread like wildfire," Zara related with abundant mirth. "Owen Grady: a taken man." Claire blushed. "Alec heard that he's 'disgustingly smitten.'" Zara looked skeptically at her boss, who just smiled. "You're not bothered by it?"

"Of course I'm not!" Claire blurted out. "He might be, however," she added under her breath. The two women laughed.

"I'm so glad he makes you happy, Claire."

"Let's not jinx it, Zara. It's early days still."

"Fine, have it your way," Zara giggled. "I'll be happy to relinquish the Senior Assets Manager duties back to you tomorrow."

"Do you know anything about the new asset Henry's planning to unveil?"

"He was pretty evasive when I asked about it. He wants to speak directly with you first."

"Just makes me anxious going into the meeting blind. He usually prepares an entire package to review. It's a deviation from his norm."

"Gird your loins then," Zara winked. Claire fully intended to prepare for the worst.

Claire felt rested, refreshed, and ready for anything when she strolled into the lab. After Owen called her to say that he needed to work late, she decided to go to bed early. She'd averaged less sleep when Owen stayed the night, being otherwise occupied in bed. Upon setting foot in Henry's office, her readiness was immediately put to the test. She was thankful for the extra sleep. Unbeknownst to her or Zara, Vic Hoskins was also in attendance at the meeting. Claire shifted into high alert status and silently considered possible explanations for his inclusion. Hoskins smiled at her in a borderline vulgar way. She rolled her eyes, assuming that he was privy to the latest island gossip.

"I'm surprised to see you, Vic." He merely clicked his tongue and leaned against Henry's desk.

Henry was his usual, arrogant self and ignored the tension. He launched right into his news, "I asked Vic to be here because our newest asset will provide some unique challenges. It's imperative that ACU treat this one with greater care."

"I want you to feel confident that my crew will have everything under control," Vic interjected with condescension in his voice. "You know I've been committed to public safety when it comes to dinosaurs even before I was at InGen." Claire couldn't help rolling her eyes again. Vic never missed an opportunity to brag about how he personally captured the pteranodons that escaped from Isla Sorna in 2001. Claire heard the story more times than she could count, and Vic's description grew more epic with each re-telling. He was the man, the myth, the legend in his own mind. And, likely, of his own making. Only he knew the naked truth. Regardless, the event directly resulted in his hiring by Simon Masrani, and he'd unquestionably proved himself to be a capable head of security in the intervening years.

Claire spoke with deadly sarcasm, "A cuddly herbivore, I'm guessing?"

Henry chuckled as his lips curled into a sly grin, "The furthest from it." Henry passed her a computer-generated schematic of a very dangerous-looking dinosaur. "My first genetically-modified hybrid. It will satisfy all of Mr. Masrani's requests." Claire harkened back to a recent memo Masrani sent, encouraging them to create a new attraction that was "bigger, scarier, louder, and cooler." From the schematic, this new dinosaur certainly fulfilled those criteria with its exaggerated predator features.

"What's in it?" Claire asked frankly.

"The base genome is _T. rex,_ the rest is proprietary." She audibly scoffed at this answer. She was getting warier by the second but needed to keep her emotions close to the vest.

"Do we have behavioral data from Site B?" Much of the knowledge about their existing attractions came by way of observations and reports from Isla Sorna.

"We're planning to raise them exclusively on Nublar," answered Hoskins. "Keep them close, like the raptors." He seemed to bite his tongue. Claire carefully watched the nonverbals between the two men. She remained as cagey as they were. She still couldn't fathom why Hoskins needed to be present for this conversation.

"At least we already had data on the raptors," she countered. "Why are they comparable to this hybrid?" Both men were silent. She knew exactly what to say. Owen had taught her to respect the animals and altered her perspective on the island. "We need a lead handler who's a behaviorist. For insurance."

"How about Owen, then?" Hoskins spoke quickly and reflexively. The way he grinned, she couldn't tell if he was joking. He was trying to get a rise of her, regardless. Claire adopted a steely-eyed gaze.

"No. He's the raptors' Alpha. Project IBRIS can't lose him. Handling these hybrids would be a full-time job."

"We need them hatched as soon as possible," Henry spoke up and brushed off her concern. "Mr. Masrani doesn't want this new attraction delayed. There's no time to find someone qualified by the imprinting period." He and Hoskins exchanged an odd look. Claire needed to think fast. Something not-above-board was going on, but it was only a hunch. She'd need concrete evidence. She needed a behaviorist, without question.

"Barry," she suggested firmly. "He doesn't have the same relationship with the raptors, so he could shift. He'll be missed at the raptor paddock, but you can hire a replacement there more easily than fill a de novo position with an unpredictable animal." Henry seemed to take notice of her word choice - they were no longer just assets to her - and she could see the gears turning in Hoskins' head. Hoskins knew she was right.

"Clever," Henry snipped. "But what if Barry won't agree to shift?"

"I think he'll do it." Claire wore her best poker face. After her conversation with Owen on Saturday night, she was confident Barry would go for this opportunity.

* * *

 ** _A sort of cliffhanger - I'm starting to really enjoy writing them! Let me know what you think of this one and if you were satisfied with the fluff and smut...in the absence of angst ;)_**


	9. Chapter 9

**_Trigger warning: an event occurs early in this chapter that some readers may find controversial and/or unseemly. I view it as an important catalyst and welcome feedback on this narrative choice as well as any other aspect of the story._**

* * *

Claire called Owen immediately upon her return to her office after meeting with Wu and Hoskins. Owen didn't answer after several rings, so she left a voicemail asking him to call her as soon as possible. She tapped her fingers nervously on her desk. She didn't know how he would react to her suggestion of Barry leaving the raptor project. She wished she could be the one to break the news. She dreaded how Hoskins might handle it. She second-guessed and warred with herself. In the moment, she believed she made the best decision under the circumstances. Wu and Hoskins were sending mixed messages, saying that the hybrid needed extra attention from ACU but resisting the idea of having a behaviorist handler.

Her suggestion for Barry was, however, influenced by her inside knowledge. Knowledge that was likely intended to remain in confidence. Sure, she didn't explicitly share specifics with Wu and Hoskins, but they understood what was implicit in her argument. Her stomach churned. She fucked up. She wasn't truly under duress. Despite having the distinct impression that the two men meant to intimate her in the lab, Claire could've chosen to speak with Owen first. She considered driving to the paddock, but her schedule for the rest of the day was tight. She had to catch up on a mountain of work. She cursed herself. Relationships. Having to consider others' feelings was as messy as Owen said.

She looked at her watch. Hoskins might be at the paddock already. Would he speak to Barry alone? Would he say that she insisted on having him shift to the new attraction? That wouldn't be an enormous exaggeration of the truth. She groaned thinking about Vic's exaggerations of his pteranodon capture story. She called Owen again. Straight to voicemail. No rings. "Oh, shit," she thought to herself as she slumped in the chair. She felt like an idiot who was constantly messing up. The polar opposite of how she felt in her career.

Claire tried to distract herself with assets management tasks. It worked for thirty minutes. That was when she received a text from Owen: "Stay away from the paddock. My hands are suddenly over-full." She ironically related to Terry from _On the Waterfront_ when Edie told him to stay away from her. Terry forced himself into Edie's home, but Claire wouldn't do the same. Owen didn't say things were over between them. She imagined that he was just upset. Or hoped. She wrote back: "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you first." He didn't respond, so she went on with her day.

She didn't hear from him again until Friday afternoon. She had enough work to keep her mind occupied until late into the evenings. In idle moments, however, she was heartsick. It made her feel weak. She'd never allowed a man close enough to make her feel that way. Now, she knew why. She cried herself to sleep on Thursday night. Something else she'd never done. Claire was eventually able to settle herself with the idea that silence from him was preferable to his unleashing vitriol or breaking it off with her. She didn't know him well enough to understand if this was a "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"-type situation.

Owen called her just as she was about to enter the employee clinic. "Do you still want to come over tonight?" he asked with weariness in his voice.

"Yes," she answered, wanting to keep things short to prevent her voice from wavering.

"Eight o'clock okay?"

"Sure." Claire suddenly felt sick and wondered if he planned to end it.

"Did you have your appointment yet?"

"I'm...uh...there now."

"Good. See you tonight." He hung up without another word. It was strangely comforting. As she moved to pull open the clinic door, it burst open with a shock of violet hair. Marisa Wilkinson, in the flesh. She looked distracted and scowled when they locked eyes. Claire stepped aside to allow the other woman to pass. She was glad that Marisa's hair wasn't still in a matching red bob.

* * *

As Claire pulled up to the bungalow, she couldn't remember when she felt more shaken up. It surprisingly had nothing to do with the fact that it was the first time she'd driven a car in over a week. Owen was sitting in a chair under the metal awning of his trailer, bathed in light from the string of bulbs above him, and drinking a beer. Always his effortlessly sexy self. Her heart raced. He stood and silently held the trailer door open for her when she approached. They faced each other inside his small, dark kitchen. The only light was coming from the adjoining bungalow. The ambience matched the dark look in his eyes. Her brow furrowed. She missed the carefree Owen from her kitchen on Saturday night.

"How was your appointment?" he asked in a low tone.

Claire swallowed hard before answering, "Perfect. Clean bill of health."

"No post-concussive symptoms?"

"No. The black eye's even gone...if you can tell with the lights off." She scoffed and crossed her arms.

He chuckled viciously, "I can tell." Before she could take a breath, his mouth crushed against hers. Teeth clashed. Her tongue met his stroke for stroke. Their bodies clung together in fierce mutual desire. He tugged her wrists down to her sides before forcing her to step backwards. It was harsh but not hurtful. She felt the edge of a table against her thighs and almost stumbled into a sitting position. He swiftly turned her body and bent her forward onto the tabletop. As her forearms smacked down to catch herself, a plate and fork clattered to the floor. She laughed at the remembrance of his offer to lean her over something in his bungalow; then quickly chastised herself for finding humor in his current treatment. She'd never experienced an angry fuck before. It wasn't really something Claire needed Owen to open her world to. Although she didn't feel entirely comfortable, she trusted that he wouldn't harm her. That he would stop if she asked. His movements were controlled despite his obvious fury. She didn't resist and whimpered her consent.

He pulled her skirt up to her waist and ran his hands from her low back to her knees, pulling her underwear down along the way. It was undeniably hot. She heard him slipping on a condom. He was always prepared, even if the rest of his behavior wasn't how she expected a Boy Scout to act. When he slid inside her wet sheath, she cried out loudly. It caused him to still. His fingers relaxed their grip on her hips. She didn't want him to stop. "Keep going," she practically growled while bucking her hips into him. He started thrusting roughly, but his hands stayed gentle. This was better for her. The Owen she'd slept with was still in there.

Claire found an arousing rhythm to match his own. It seemed as if they were both biting their tongues. The darkness combined with the silence was a discombobulating mixture. With anyone else, it would've felt wrong. With Owen, it was erotic. Part of her didn't want him to know how much she was enjoying it. There was an element of shame despite the pleasure. She could tell that he was getting close by his noises and the quality of his movements. Confirming her suspicions, he nudged her legs slightly further apart to slip a hand between them. He stroked her clit in time with his thrusts, and she shattered apart with her orgasm shortly thereafter. He followed suit and rested his hands on the top of her ass while he pulsed inside her.

When their orgasms had fully played out, Owen tenderly massaged her hips. Their breathing remained course. He pulled out of her slowly then replaced her underwear and fixed her skirt before stepping away. Claire heard him re-fastening his jeans. She let her breathing normalize before straightening and turning to face him. He was leaning against his kitchen counter several feet from her and looking down. His eyes flitted upwards briefly. The remorse on his face was apparent even in the dim light.

She cleared her throat, "You didn't hurt me, but I would've slapped you if you hadn't gotten me off."

He struggled to look at her and almost mumbled, "I was really angry."

"No shit." His eyes snapped to hers. The conflict in them mirrored her own. She was angry, too, at him and herself. It was probably the most confusing night of her life. One thing was clear, however. She didn't want to leave. When he understood that she wasn't going to bolt, Owen approached her cautiously. Her eyes and posture softened. He hesitated for a beat then wrapped his arms around her waist. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, and she returned the embrace.

"You're amazing, Claire," he whispered. "I'm sorry." She ran a hand through his hair. It was soft and clean-smelling. Was she willfully distracting herself or was this just his effect on her? He challenged her in ways no one ever did before, but instead of running from him, she felt compelled to merge with him - body and soul. She let out a heavy sigh.

"Talk to me, Owen." He pulled back far enough to look at her but didn't relinquish his firm hold.

He stammered, "When you texted that you were sorry for not telling me first-"

She cut him off impatiently, "I meant I should've spoken to you before I suggested Barry to Wu and Hoskins."

"That's what I hoped." Relief washed over him. "I didn't call you back because I didn't want to say something I'd regret."

"You told me you'd be reliable." It came out cattier than she intended.

"You said we were in this together." He looked at her as if she'd just shot him in the chest. She sucked in a guilty breath. "I opened up to you, Claire. That's a rare thing for me. I don't trust a lot of people. I want to trust you."

"I'm sorry." She was getting choked up, her throat going dry as tears threatened to spill. "When I asked them to get a behaviorist handler, Hoskins suggested you."

"What?" Owen was clearly alarmed.

"I didn't know if he was serious." She started to ramble. It was preferable to crying. "The entire situation unnerves me. I'm not scared of the hybrid, but I'm being cautious. Thinking ahead. Thinking about this island being the animals' kingdom." He stroked her cheek with a knowing smile. He recognized his influence on her. "This hybrid is dangerous. I can feel it. If anything happened to you, I'd blame myself. That is the one thing I don't have the strength to bear. Your blood on my hands." He stopped her rambling with a searing kiss. She was floating again. The world stopped spinning. His twinkly-eyed smile was back when he pulled away.

"So," he smirked, "you're telling me that I can trust you with my life?"

"Yes," she sighed and hugged him tightly. They remained silently holding each other for a long moment.

"You were right," Owen eventually said. "Barry leapt at the chance to imprint on his own animals." Claire stepped back and held both of his hands. "He accepted Hoskins' offer immediately. I felt betrayed by all of you. I couldn't separate the anger I felt toward you, Barry, Hoskins - the entire situation. Barry and I talked it out today. I still want to punch Hoskins in the face, especially now that I know he suggested I leave the raptors." He squeezed her hands. "The outcome probably would've been the same even if you talked to me first, but it hurt that you seemed to go behind my back and use private information."

"I didn't think about how it would seem to you. I felt pressured to react immediately." Anguish reappeared in his eyes at her words.

"I acted rashly tonight." He examined her forearms before kissing each one. "You're sure I didn't hurt you?"

"My pride a little bit," she said softly.

"I'll make it up to you." Owen kissed the back of one of her hands before taking hold of it and leading her into his bedroom in the bungalow proper. Claire felt shy but very special standing next to his bed. He'd previously told her that she was the only woman who'd ever been to his home. She looked at him wantonly. His allure was magnified because she knew he was hers. As if reading her mind, he pulled off his shirt and said, "Touch me." She was desperate for the feel of him as if parched and finally able to slake her thirst. She slowly slid her hands down the front of his chest, across his abs, and around to his back. Her effect on him was strong. His stormy eyes bore into her own with an intensity and emotion that she dared not try to name. It shook her to the core. She focused on the tactile sensations instead.

"I missed this," she purred. The statement was both generalizable to their week-long separation and specific to their encounter in his kitchen. He bent down to kiss her. Soft, sweet, and poignant. The exact opposite of how it had been when she first arrived. He caught her as she began to swoon. One arm locked around her hips while the other moved deftly to undress her. She smiled and whispered, "You should get those next stripes for applying jiu-jitsu skills to sex." He fully divested her of her clothes and laid her in the middle of his bed. Her breathing hitched when he placed her legs over his shoulders.

Only two other men had ever gone down on her. And only after she made it a condition of their receiving a blowjob. Neither of those previous lovers put in much of an effort. It made her ambivalent about oral sex. The moment Owen nuzzled his mouth against her, Claire knew her opinion on the subject would change. There was no ambiguity. What she experienced was complete and utter helplessness. Her body jolted with every swirl of his tongue. He was most definitely into it and making a more than solid effort. The sensations were intoxicating and seemed unreal. How she imagined it would be like to take a hallucinogen. She didn't even care when his still unshaven cheeks chafed the insides of her thighs. Her heels pressed into his back. Her hips lifted against his mouth. Her outstretched hands nearly tore the sheets off the mattress.

"Fuck yes," she bellowed before going off like a bomb. He kept his mouth on her - applying suction - to draw out every spasm of her climax. When her body went limp, she felt drained. Totally wrung out. She covered her face with her arm. "Oh. My. God, Owen." She was panting. "That was...otherworldly. You have set the bar impossibly high."

He laughed as he laid down next to her, "l already knew I was the best you'd ever had." She playfully slapped him with the arm that had been covering her eyes.

"I meant orally," she groaned.

"So, I'm not the best you've ever had...generally?" Claire blushed. Caught in the sensual web he'd woven around them.

"You are." His lips curled up into a boyish grin. It made her heart squeeze to see him happy like that. She rolled toward him and bit her lip as she contemplated his impressive manhood, threatening to burst out of his boxer briefs.

"We can have sex instead, if you prefer." He was teasing but had to appreciate her sense of intimidation.

"No no, I am perfectly capable of...doing this." She took a deep breath. She was embarrassed by her trepidation but motivated by her need for balance. This was never an act that she enjoyed. She attended a bachelorette party once that featured a blowjob training "semen-ar." The other women thought it was hilarious and fascinating, but it was just awkward for her. She suddenly wished she'd paid better attention.

"Don't be nervous," he said encouragingly. "I've wanted to fuck your smart mouth for so long, Claire. You don't have to do anything extraordinary to get me off." She pursed her lips and sharpened her gaze. It didn't bother her that he was crude. It was that she didn't want to be merely extraordinary. He read her so well and added, "You're the best I've ever had, too." She could've made a self-deprecating retort, but he ignited a fire within her. It was the final push she needed.

She straddled him and leaned down to kiss his lips. He closed his eyes reflexively, but she stopped short and taunted, "My smart mouth, huh?" He reopened his eyes to see her devious grin.

"In all things but dirty talk," he teased back. Her eyes narrowed.

"See if you can keep your smart mouth quiet." It was a challenge. Owen attempted to buck upwards to kiss her, but she anticipated it. She pushed his shoulders into the mattress while shaking her head and clicking her tongue. That strong, powerful feeling she adored reverberated through her body. Claire was suddenly driven to leave her mark on him. She brought her lips to his neck to give him a hickey. He grunted and caressed her back gently in response. His touch set her further aflame. She moved her mouth to his nipples, licking and biting until he almost cried out. He didn't give in to her that easily. She watched him grit his teeth at her sitting up and rolling her hips into his.

She climbed off him to pull down his briefs. She had to suppress her gag reflex at the sight of his dick standing at attention. Her eyes flicked up to his, and he was grinning like a maniac. Owen settled on the pillow with his hands behind his head. Claire had to stop looking at him. She needed to focus. She wanted to make him howl. And fast. She started with her hands. Working him up with long, calculated strokes. His body twitched. He muffled his noises. She lowered her mouth slowly but - just as she did to his lips - stopped short of his tip. She flicked her tongue into his sensitive slit then quickly retracted it back into in her mouth.

"You viper," Owen groaned loudly. "Damnit, Cl-" His protest cut off with his sharp intake of breath as she took him into her mouth. He dissolved into grunts and whimpers. As she sucked and licked, she labored to recreate the sensations she experienced from his mouth on her most sensitive area. She was into it as much as he had been. When she couldn't take him any deeper into her throat, she started pumping the base with her hand. Claire quickened her pace and felt his fingers threading into her hair, egging her on. It gave her goosebumps. She almost faltered. Almost. She could tell when he was about to explode. It made her giddy. She laughed a little, and the vibrations of her mouth brought him to the brink.

"Good God," he exclaimed while she matched his muscle contractions with continued suction. She was applying more of the valuable lessons learned from him. After she swallowed and started moving toward the pillows, he was still breathing hard with his eyes closed. "Fuck, Claire," he choked out. "You had absolutely nothing to be nervous about. Jesus Christ!" As soon as her body was within reach, he forcefully wrapped his arms around her and rolled them onto their sides. She giggled all the while. He feathered kisses on and around her face. "Can I get your bag out of your car for you?" He asked in such a docile tone that she felt a twinge of pain.

She stammered, "I...uh...didn't bring one." He was stunned. "I wasn't sure you'd still want me to stay."

"Are you kidding?" He gave her that intense look again. The one that shook her. She wasn't ready to put words to that feeling, so she avoided it.

"Well, you didn't talk to me for five days. I thought we might've been done." His gaze clouded with hurt.

"Claire, I don't think I'm ever going to be done with you." Her heart stopped. Her insecurities assuaged and then some. A bliss overcame her that was far greater than that of any orgasm. She needed to bring things back into balance again.

"Good," she smirked, "Because I started the pill today." His look changed to pure joy.

"So, no more condoms?" His tone was playful. She surmised that he was good at avoiding, too.

"Dr. Adams recommended having a 'back-up' method for the first month."

"A month?!"

"We can stick to oral sex, if you prefer." She mimicked his earlier quip. He rolled his eyes, and they both laughed.

"As tempting as that may be, I want it all." His tone was deadly serious.

"Me, too." She whispered before leaning in to kiss him. This time, there was no stopping short.

* * *

 ** _As always, thanks for reading/supporting this work_** ** _and please review!_**

 ** _Special thanks to the work of Monica McCarty for the inspiration to enhance the last few chapters. There will probably only be one more full chapter and an epilogue - I'm really going to miss this story._**


	10. Chapter 10

**_I originally intended this to be the final full chapter_ _before the epilogue. Thanks to reflection and inspiration - with a dash of encouragement_** _ **and advice from**_ **hushedgreylily _and_ thehelloitsme** ** _\- there will be another chapter before the coda. I hope everyone enjoys this meaty, penultimate chapter :)_**

* * *

Claire and Owen sat next to each other on the bench seat in his kitchen to eat their cereal. He put one hand on her thigh and kept making bedroom eyes at her wearing one of his t-shirts. They'd already had sex once that morning, and she insisted they needed to eat before a second round. She also had a request.

"You need to shave," she said bluntly. It was actually an order, not a request. "You're going to rub my skin raw."

"Maybe that's my intention," he teased before planting a kiss on the corner of her jaw below her ear.

"Very charming." She pecked his lips then crinkled her nose. "The mustache should probably go while you're at it."

He groaned loudly, "What?" He ran his thumb and index finger along his mustache. "I like it, and...do you know what a hard time my guys'll give me if it's suddenly gone?"

"For me? Please?" She made puppy dog eyes and stuck out her bottom lip. He glared at her. She rubbed his bicep and laid it on thick. "You don't want to hurt me or my very sensitive skin that YOU want to stay blemish-free." Claire nuzzled his neck. She felt him shudder and thought she was turning the tide.

"What if the pack doesn't like it?" She stopped short of rolling her eyes and pondered whether this could be a legitimate reason. After all, she wasn't a behaviorist. He grinned as if reading her mind, looking triumphant. Her eyes slitted.

"You can always grow it back," she scoffed.

"You really want to change me?" he whined. She could tell that he was half-teasing and trying to distract her attention from the hand that was slowly creeping down the inner aspect of her thigh.

"You've changed me. It's only fair." The words came out automatically. Her tone serious. He stilled and looked deep into her eyes. There it was again. Her breath caught in her throat. Unspoken words seemed to hang in the air. Owen suddenly diverted his gaze and cleared his throat. His hand moved from her thigh to his own. She shivered at the loss of contact.

He spoke in the direction of his cereal bowl, "If it's important to you, I'll shave it off. I can't promise it'll be gone for good though." Before things got more awkward or their meal devolved into complete silence, she brought up another topic that had been nagging her.

"Why would Hoskins suggest you when I asked for a behaviorist?"

"Get me out of the way." He was matter-of-fact and turned his eyes toward her again.

"For what?"

He sighed, "A field test."

"For the raptors?" He nodded. "To what end?"

"A hunt." She was stunned. Hoskins couldn't possibly be planning such a thing near the park. In proximity to guests or staff. Owen chuckled. "I like watching the gears turning in your head." She smiled warmly at him. "Not here, Claire. Sorna."

"Hunting what...exactly?" She was almost shaking with nervous energy.

"Something...classified." Proprietary was the word Henry used. Her mind raced. She wondered if the hybrid for Nublar was not Henry's first genetically-modified creation. She shuddered. All of the animals were his creations. The park wouldn't exist if not for him. "It ain't a good idea," Owen added after swallowing a bite of cereal. "For a multitude of reasons."

"Yeah," she sputtered in disbelief, "like how would you corral them after they'd tasted freedom?" She thought about all the incidents managed by ACU when rogue herbivores needed corralling outside their zones. She cringed at what it would be like with a pack of raptors.

"That's one problem." A shadow seemed to fall over his countenance. "I'm more concerned about the consequences if it works."

"What do you mean?"

"Hoskins wants a weapon." She transitioned from stunned to shocked.

"How long have you known this?"

He winced and gritted his teeth, "From the beginning?" Her eyes popped wider - if that were possible. He was clearly reluctant to admit this. "I trained dolphins and sea lions for military operations in my former life." He shrugged. "Call it willful blindness...while I enjoyed my job here. They're my girls, Claire. It's hard to think about that endgame, even when Hoskins is squeezing us."

"Does Barry know?"

"No. I want him to have plausible deniability if...shit goes south." Her heart pounded in fear. She grabbed his shoulders and twisted his body toward her.

"'Goes south'?!"

"Don't worry about it. I got it handled." Then, it dawned on her.

"It's why you always step in. Why you don't give Barry more leeway. You WANT the raptors to only respond to you. It protects them from being used." He shot her a look that seem to say "bingo." She leaned back and breathed out, long and slow. She was contemplative. He took her hand and rolled his thumb over her knuckles.

"I wish it were that simple to protect them," he sighed. "And me." She bit her lip to keep it from quivering and tucked herself into his side. "It's a tightrope act. We have to make an honest effort to get them to respect Barry. Otherwise, Hoskins could just..." His voice trailed off, so she finished his sentence.

"Replace them and you." Owen swallowed hard and kissed her forehead.

"Alternatively, he could take advantage of my unique bond with them." She looked up at him quizzically. "Use them against me. Give me an ultimatum that forces me into doing something that I know isn't right." That dark shadow hadn't moved from his face. It was heart-rending. Claire wanted to soothe his burdened soul.

"I had no idea things were so complicated," she said softly. "I wish there was something I could do." He finally smiled.

"You do more for me than you could ever know." He seemed to stop himself from saying more. At least the shadow seemed to lift as well. He kissed her gently before adding, "Be careful around Hoskins...and Wu, since they're apparently up to something together. I can't let Hoskins know how smart the raptors truly are. I purposely drag my feet on filing reports, but he's no dummy. Vic can tell I'm withholding gains from him. I just don't want him to have any...ammunition." He winced. "I meant what I told you before. I'm worried that they'll outgrow even my influence. Then, he'd definitely replace us."

She squeezed his hand and said, "You're irreplaceable to me." Owen leaned down to kiss her fiercely. His stubble roughly grazed her skin, but she didn't fuss. She did notice the tenting of his boxers.

He pulled out of the kiss abruptly to proclaim, "If you still want me to shave before we have sex, we better stop now." He was wearing that boyish grin she liked.

Claire sat back and laughed, "Yes, please shave." He let out an over-dramatic sigh. She followed him to his bathroom and leaned against the doorframe. "Take your time," she directed in a playful tone. "I don't want you to cut yourself." He pulled off his shirt and threw it in her direction, causing her to squeal.

"You're going to make me nervous if you watch me," he smirked. Her eyes lit up when she saw him take out a straight razor. Her fingers itched to touch it. Owen looked at her with curiosity. "What is it?"

"Can I...do the honors?" she asked with excitement in her voice. His eyebrows went up.

"You know how to shave with a straight razor?" He seemed genuinely intrigued but not entirely believing.

"My dad always used to say, 'real men use a straight razor.'" She smiled at him lasciviously. "My good judgment is further confirmed." She ran a hand from his shoulder to his wrist and reveled in his physical reaction to her touch.

"Stop teasing me, Claire." She outstretched her hand for the blade, and he passed it to her gingerly. She could tell that it was sharpened.

She examined the blade then laughed, "My dad never had any sons, but I was always fascinated by it. I used to watch him, and then I used one myself." Owen's jaw dropped.

"That's how you stay so smooth? Damn, I'm impressed."

"Past tense." She shrugged. "It's too time-consuming for the surface area. And always grows back thicker. I eventually got electrolysis."

He laughed, "I'm learning your secrets, too." One side of his mouth curled up. "How are we doing this?" She looked around the small bathroom to get her bearings.

"I'll have to sit on the sink." Claire could tell that he was very turned on. She hoped he'd be able to keep still for this activity. He lifted her so that she was perched on the sink's edge. He groaned as she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him into her. She could now feel the level of his arousal. She questioned the wisdom of her decision - it was making her hot, too - but plunged ahead anyway. He passed her his "Beard Lube" shaving cream, causing her to snigger.

"What?" he quipped defensively. "This shit is the best."

"Hold still and be quiet," she instructed. "You know I can't handle your blood on my hands."

"Yes, ma'am," he teased before relaxing his face.

The entire process was erotic. The temperature in the confining space undoubtedly spiked. Claire had to force herself to focus. To prevent her hands from shaking. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and controlled. He obeyed her verbal and nonverbal commands to adjust the position of his head. She always enjoyed the precision of a straight razor. She never enjoyed wielding one more than she did in this moment. Her power and skill were on full display. It was clearly intoxicating to them both. His absolute trust, however, made her feel important in way that she never previously conceived. A way that she knew was world-altering.

When she finished with his cheeks and jaw, she hesitated. His smooth chin rested in her hand. It felt amazing as she rubbed it between her fingers. Her eyes moved up to his. She bit her lip. She reconsidered wanting to take his mustache from him. He'd already given so much of himself to her. Did she really need this, too? Owen silently acknowledged her conflict and responded by flashing her that intense look. His eyes brimmed with emotion. It was so much more complex than simple adoration. Her hands threatened to shake more violently than ever. He nodded his head subtly into her hand. Claire took a deep breath before starting to shave his upper lip. Her movements became even more gentle. He didn't flinch or grimace. She was overcome with her own emotions and felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

After his lip was completely shaven, she collapsed the razor into its handle and laid it on the sink top. Owen swiped away the hairs that had fallen on her thighs. A few stragglers remained, and he lightly blew at them. The sensation gave Claire goosebumps. Dampness and heat spread between her legs. She leaned forward and rubbed her cheek against his. The contact made her skin tingle. She hummed as she felt him fully harden and push through the opening in his boxers. One of his hands lifted the t-shirt she wore and inched slowly up her back. Their skin remained flush while she turned her face to kiss him. Without the mustache, it initially seemed like she was kissing a stranger. The thought made her blush. The shock subsided quickly, and she melted into him. Drawn into everything that constituted her Owen. All of her senses flared. Her arms snaked around his back. Her legs tightened at his hips, eliciting his gratified groan.

Lost in their kiss, Claire was only vaguely aware of his surreptitiously reaching into his medicine cabinet. She saw the condom in her peripheral vision and said in a sultry tone, "Let me do that, too." Owen massaged the outer aspect of her thighs as she rolled on the latex. When she was done, she mewled in delight.

He abruptly lifted her hips and growled, "Your turn to hold still." Before she could react, he used the razor to cut off her underwear.

She gasped and said, "You know I don't have another pair here." He smiled deviously, and she was honestly too excited to care. She positioned her legs at his waist as he pulled the fabric out from beneath her.

"Brace yourself," he warned with the quirk of a brow. She gripped the sides of the sink, and he pushed inside her. His skin was smooth, but his movements were rough. His hold on her hips covetous. The contents of the medicine cabinet rattled. The walls of the bathroom seemed to shake. Claire's eyes rolled into her head. Owen tipped her head backward to kiss her neck and lifted one of her legs to thrust deeper. It caused her to cry out. Her hands to tense around the sink top. Owen emitted a low chuckle. The rattling intensified. Her head swam. "You are so sexy," he said breathlessly.

"The sexiest," she panted in response.

"Yes. Without question." He pressed into her elevated thigh with greedy fingers. Her body turned into a pool of liquid heat.

"O-o-Owen," came her stuttered moan. His name the only word she could manage. Even if she really was terrible at dirty talk, there was no mistaking their palpable connection. It was all-encompassing. She lost the sense of where she ended and he began. Their movements became frenzied. Their mouths pressed together ferociously as they reached the pinnacle simultaneously. They muffled each other's cries and were somehow brought closer together by coming undone.

They maintained an arresting eye contact long after their bodies stilled and their breathing slowed. Claire was almost afraid to move or speak - as if it would break the spell she'd fallen under. It was akin to how she'd felt the morning after they first slept together, when she lingered in her bed for hours. Unfortunately, his sink wasn't nearly as comfortable. Owen must've appreciated this and silently lifted her to stand on the floor. She glanced briefly at the tattered underwear near her feet.

"My keepsake," he smirked, "from the HOTTEST sex of my life." She blushed then cupped his face in her hands. She sighed in contentment with his statement and her handiwork. "I'm gonna get hard every time I touch that razor. I may shave more often just to relive this in my mind." He was almost rambling. His apparent euphoria was adorable. She kissed him sweetly.

"You're welcome," she preened.

"How do I look?" he asked in jest. The mirror was right in front of him. She considered her response carefully. She wanted to avoid him thinking that she didn't like his previous appearance, but she honestly preferred him clean-shaven.

"Younger." He rolled his eyes at this.

"Great," he groaned sarcastically while eyeing himself in the mirror. "My nickname in the Navy was 'Babyface.' I have a sneaking suspicion it'll be resurrected." She couldn't stop herself from giggling. He looked at her sternly. "That's not funny."

"It's a little funny," she taunted. "So, you were hiding behind a mustache?" He rolled his eyes again. "Own it. Own this youthful face." She patted his cheek. "Now, we're both gorgeous."

He scoffed in a playful tone, "What was I before?"

"Ruggedly handsome." Claire batted her lashes seductively. Owen shook his head.

"This better have earned me a fuck ton of brownie points."

"What do you want?"

"Your smart mouth." The way he smiled at her, she fully understood the implication.

"I think that can be arranged."

* * *

The days that followed were surreal to Claire. She finally understood and applied the principle of "work hard, play hard." Both she and Owen kept long hours, but they still managed to be together at night. It was wonderful to her not to feel guilty for staying late at her office. She never had to justify her obligations to him. On some evenings, they barely spoke and simply went to sleep after having sex. Her prediction that the sex would keep getting better proved to be true. Unpredictably but reassuringly, it wasn't necessary every night. When he returned to the island after training at the jiu-jitsu studio, they just fell into bed exhausted and happy.

The effortless balance to their relationship was almost too good to be true. They alternated staying at each other's homes without associated friction. She didn't bust his balls or vice versa. They were supportive sounding boards for each other and provided constructive feedback. Claire could save up her suspicions about Wu culled during the day and spill them to Owen at night. He, in turn, unloaded to her about juggling the process of finding a replacement for Barry with mentoring Barry in preparation for his role as the hybrids' Alpha. They shared openly with complete trust and without fear of judgment.

After spending a few hours working on Sunday morning, they met up for a lazy afternoon at his place. Owen planned to grill food for them and asked Claire to wear a bathing suit for swimming in the lake. Her bikini top didn't stay on long once they were in the water. The ease with which he removed her clothes never ceased to amaze her. He pinned her against the end of the dock, where it was just deep enough for her stand and maintain her modesty.

"I can't wait until we'll be able to have sex here," he smirked. "Less than three weeks now."

"But who's counting?" she teased. Her face contorted with mock disgust as she looked from side-to-side at the vertical beams supporting the dock. "I don't know about this. I might get splinters."

"We'll do it 'bionic seahorse,' and I promise to be gentle." She snorted in disbelief. She never had sex in water before but heard that it wasn't particularly enjoyable - water being a poor lubricant. He ignored her reaction and demonstrated his tenderness with a mind-blowing kiss. His hands cupped her breasts under the water. She was turning into putty. Just when she thought they'd need to relocate to his bedroom, Owen pulled away. She opened her eyes, and he was gazing at her intensely.

"Claire, there's something I need to say." Her heart skipped a beat. His brow furrowed. He looked deadly serious but also nervous. She held her breath. "Something Barry told me that's been bothering me." Before he could finish, they turned their heads at the sound of a vehicle pulling up to the bungalow.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"I don't know," he replied cautiously. As soon as the car door opened, she knew. It was unmistakable. She'd recognize that shade of violet anywhere.

"Marisa," she whispered.

"What?" he exclaimed. He stiffened and passed Claire her bikini top. He moved in front of her as she redressed. She took hold of his hand, and they walked out of the lake together. Marisa noticed them and stood next to her car. She was sneering when they approached her.

"I need to talk to Owen alone," she said while giving Claire the stink eye.

"I'll be inside," Claire spoke before Owen could respond and scowled at the other woman.

Marisa turned to Owen, "So, I guess this is a legit thing." Her voice dripped with disdain. "I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse." Claire had never seen Owen looking so enraged. She squeezed his hand before going inside the bungalow.

She tried not to eavesdrop, but the walls of the bungalow were thin. Claire could tell that they were arguing. Marisa's voice kept getting louder, but Owen seemed to be keeping himself under control. That was likely for Claire's benefit. She distinctly heard Marisa shout, "You couldn't remember my name in bed. Is it such a stretch of the imagination that you'd forget a condom, too?" Claire covered her mouth to muffle her gasp. Owen told Marisa to quiet down. Marisa spoke louder - as if directing her voice toward the bungalow, "She should probably know that you said HER name while WE were having sex." Claire almost laughed. She guessed that Marisa posted her photo of Owen on Instagram to spite him.

Marisa finally lowered her voice, but they continued arguing for a few minutes more. Claire tensed when she heard a car door slam followed shortly thereafter by Owen's feet on the bungalow steps. He burst through the door and avoided Claire's eyes. He sat next to her on the bed and put his head in his hands. She waited for him to speak.

"You were right about me, Claire. I'm a careless scoundrel. I treat women like dirt." It upset her to hear him talk about himself like that. She felt close to tears. He'd never sounded so devastated. "I was pressuring you into sex, got frustrated...and piss drunk, and ended up in bed with someone who reminded me of you. I used her and now..." His voice trailed off as he anxiously ran his fingers through his hair.

Claire swallowed hard and finished his sentence, "She's pregnant?" Her voice cracked as she said it. Owen simply nodded. She breathed out and put an arm around him. He shrugged her off and looked at her with remorse. She pursed her lips and said, "Owen, you didn't give me a shiner. I've already gotten passed you and Marisa. This doesn't change anything for me." His expression shifted to one of shock. Claire remained calm and sighed, "She could be lying, trying to cause us trouble. Out of spite. You'll get a paternity test. Nothing's certain until then."

"She's getting an abortion," he said solemnly. Claire was flabbergasted.

"Then, she's definitely being spiteful! Why would she even come here?"

"She wants me to help her pay for it." He looked down dejectedly.

"You will do no such thing." Her anger surged. She stood up and paced in front of the bed. "There's no way to prove what she says. You have no idea who else she's been with. For all we know, she's visiting all her partners, asking for money." She finished through gritted teeth, "Bitch." Claire stopped pacing when she noticed Owen smiling. "What?"

"You," he laughed and patted his lap, motioning for her to sit. She plopped down on him and put her arms around his neck. Owen returned her embrace and stared at her in that more-than-adoring way. "I can't believe this. You used to think the worst of me, and now..." He shook his head. "When Marisa was talking to me out there, all I could think about was losing you. How I fucked up. How I confirmed your fears about me and...and what you told Barry." She suddenly knew what he meant. What he referenced in the water, before they were interrupted.

"Owen-"

"You're enough for me, Claire. You're more than I ever thought I would get. Much more than I deserve." His eyes welled with tears. She felt responsible, in part, for his distress. Her long-held defenses, her doggedly clinging to self-preservation contributed to the pain he currently felt. She needed to make it go away. She needed to say what she'd been holding back. The moment for such a revelation was not what she anticipated - far removed from how it happened in her romance novels - but it was probably the right time for them. She started to tremble, but her eye contact didn't waver.

"You're deserving, Owen." His eyes went wide, and she placed a hand on his cheek. "I love you." His entire body relaxed. He closed his eyes and put his hand on top of hers on his cheek. There was so much more Claire wanted to say, but she knew from his reaction that those three words were all that was needed.

When he reopened his eyes, they burned into hers with a previously unmatched fire. It made her feel branded. Claimed. "I love you, too." She blushed. "You knew that already." She nodded. "I'm that obvious?" he teased.

"It was obvious to everyone in the infirmary." She felt a weight lifting as she said it out loud. She could finally acknowledge what she felt from him. What she wanted to deny. "I told you I didn't think I deserved it." She felt shy. "Say it again."

"I love you, Claire." She hummed in profound satisfaction and snuggled into him. He fell backward onto the bed, pulling her down with him and eliciting a squeal. She felt his heart beating fast, like a hummingbird. He rolled their bodies to face her. "You've changed me. And not just my mustache. You know that, too, right?" She nodded and rested her forehead against his.

"Make love to me."

"When have I not?"

"Never." She knew that to be true as well. Even when leaned over his kitchen table, his love for her was there.

* * *

 ** _Review review review!_**


	11. Chapter 11

_**Sorry for the delay in posting - I hope I made it worth the wait!**_

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One week following Marisa's bombshell was the due date for paperwork from research. After Owen left her office, Claire double-checked her shirt buttons and pulled a compact out of her purse to inspect for make-up smudges. She had some difficulty locating the manila envelope that had been shucked aside as he greedily plundered her on the desk. Zara knocked on the door hesitantly, but it startled Claire all the same. She blushed preemptively. Zara let herself in, as usual, and was clearly struggling to contain her mirth as she approached her boss. Claire pursed her lips then sighed, "Out with whatever joke you're planning on making." Zara pouted as if the other woman was spoiling her fun - this was becoming a pattern of behavior - before clearing her throat.

"I'm guessing you received more than paperwork today," smirked Zara. She bit her lip, but it didn't stop her from laughing. Claire rolled her eyes then joined in. Zara continued facetiously, "I'm ashamed by your lack of self-control as my superior. You are setting a very poor example."

"You were the one who encouraged me to 'live a little,'" said Claire in mock offense. "Now, I can't keep my hands off him...anywhere."

"Maybe you are a good example of a modern woman unabashedly satisfying her carnal appetites." Zara grinned saucily as Claire's smile disappeared from her face.

"Not entirely unabashedly," Claire confessed with a sideways glance.

Zara looked at her sympathetically and asked, "Why not? You two are the definition of a power couple."

Claire winced, "Well, that's kind of the problem. I've always been an independent woman who made it on my own will and ability. I've also always been in control of my...urges. He's ruining me on both counts." It was Zara's turn to roll her eyes. "He makes me feel possessed - by all meanings of the word."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing, Claire."

"I know...it's just...I feel guilty, as a feminist, for needing him to reach this level of fulfillment." She said it and breathed a sigh of relief. Claire had never felt so fulfilled in her life but was having unrelenting jitters about it. It wasn't something she felt comfortable telling Owen, in whom she was otherwise able to confide everything.

Zara shrugged, "Fulfillment isn't even achieved by everyone. You're lucky. It doesn't matter how you got there." She shook her head. "No. Fuck it. It does matter because you got there honestly while still caring about the...'world' at large." They both laughed before Zara elaborated, "The park is thriving. Staff morale is high, especially you. You seem less burdened. The work more manageable to you." Claire knew that Zara was right. She did view her job through a different lens now. It was not only more manageable. It was also more meaningful. "Owen's influence on you led to all of that. He should be celebrated."

Claire couldn't suppress her giggle. "Oh, I celebrate him plenty...including this afternoon."

"I think I overheard a bit of that," Zara replied with a wink. They shared a wicked, conspiratorial grin. "I miss those early days. Pretty soon, it's all china patterns and towel colors." Claire scoffed audibly. "What? Are you telling me that you've not considered that outcome?"

"I have," said Claire, looking down. "I just don't put too much stock in it, as an institution or a festive occasion. No offense."

"None taken, but I do hope that Owen alters your perception of marriage, too - you need to put a ring on that beefcake...as soon as possible." Zara was clearly being fresh, but Claire felt compelled to defend him.

"I trust that he wouldn't need a ring to remain committed." It came out haughty.

Zara laughed, "There's the confident woman of means I know and love. You have nothing to feel guilty about. Treasure each other."

Claire reflected on Zara's words long after her assistant left the office. She also recognized the two-way nature of the positive influence in her relationship. Owen earned his third and fourth stripes after his instructor said he was "more relaxed and focused." Owen credited Claire. That night after training, he wasn't too exhausted for sex. He was more generous and loving in bed than ever before. She "rewarded" him by saying that he'd officially proven himself to be reliable. He was more than that to her. She often recalled her comparing him to a rock when he was sitting next to her in the infirmary. He was her rock in all settings, and she strove to be his.

Claire helped Owen and Barry put the squeeze on Henry, who was forced to reveal the details of the hybrid's genetic code, when she retained independent legal counsel to review both the park's insurance policies and Barry's revised employment contract. As Claire suspected, the hybrid was part raptor. Barry's job wouldn't be easy, but he was better protected. Ultimately, so was the park. It was a short-lived victory, however. Vic Hoskins had already recruited a replacement for Barry at the raptor paddock. His name was Jennings Harrison, and Owen knew him from the Navy. He confided to Claire that the man was a strong proponent of negative reinforcement, bordering on sadism. He confirmed that Jennings not only knew Vic's endgame for the raptor project but was also likely on board for a field test.

Owen anxiously mused that Vic may have initially scouted Jennings as a potential replacement for himself. It was merely convenient to bring him on board since Barry was out of the picture. Owen expressed concern that Vic and Jennings intended to sabotage him and the girls. Claire tried to reassure him that it might just be paranoia, but even she didn't feel reassured. Owen's instincts were rarely wrong. A burning question - her biggest source of jitters - had threatened to tear her apart since Owen first broached the idea of his being replaced.

Lying in bed together one night, she finally decided to ask him, "What would you do if Vic gave you an ultimatum about the field test?"

"Leave IBRIS and Nublar," he answered flatly. Claire sucked in a sharp breath, and her heart hammered in her chest. It was the answer she feared the most. That he would choose to leave all his girls. She couldn't formulate a response. She started to tremble. Tears were poised to spill. He pulled her tightly to him. "You'd leave with me." His tone was arrogant. She flashed back to Owen's statement about their both being apex predators.

"Sometimes, you're too cocky for your own good," she huffed.

His resolve didn't waver as he replied, "You wouldn't stick around to see what other terrifying things InGen had planned." She swallowed hard. He was right. She'd felt increasingly uneasy about the company's actions and motivations since her initial meeting with Henry and Vic about the _Indominus_. She'd been on high alert after the lawyer found red flags in Barry's revised contract. Claire looked into Owen's eyes, where she often found answers and reassurance. His love and possession shined brightly in that moment. Possession, by all meanings of the word.

She sighed, "I'd also leave FOR you." No more words were required. As he kissed her ardently, her jitters dissipated. They were probably gone for good. Implicit in their exchange was that they were more important to each other than any job. New jobs could be found. What they shared couldn't be replicated.

* * *

When the day for them to stop using condoms arrived, it was bittersweet. Marisa had continued to harass Owen for money and let him know that she was flying back to the U.S. for her procedure. He felt guilty and almost caved. Claire told him that she'd support his decision, regardless. It was exactly what he needed to hear to start getting passed it himself. She went to his place on Friday night and found him sitting at the end of his dock. She couldn't help laughing about the last time she walked across the creaky planks to engage with him. Her heels made the same noise, and she heard him laughing, too.

She sat next to him and removed her pumps to dip her feet in the water. He looked pensive, staring at the ripples they created on the surface of the lake with their toes. He took her hand in his and said sadly, "I'll never know...if it was mine."

"Do you want kids?" she asked, the words spilling out of her mouth without forethought. It clearly surprised them both. He looked at her with a warm smile.

"Never thought I did, but now..." Claire's heart ached at his unfinished words.

"Because of Marisa?" she inquired cautiously. He snorted then put an arm around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Because of you." Her tears fell as if automatically and dripped onto his sleeve. Owen waited a few moments to return the inquiry, "Do you?" He sounded nervous.

"Maybe." There was no emotion in her voice. She was laboring to stay indifferent to a question that caused her significant consternation when asked in the past.

"Maybe or no?" His voice was small. At first, she didn't know if he was teasing. It might've been gallows humor, to reference their night together that led to his seeking out Marisa. Under the circumstances, however, it was in poor taste. She peered into his soulful eyes and recognized the hurt evident in them. The remorse was still there, too. As always, his pain cut her more deeply than anything she'd experienced before.

"No, with anyone other than you." She meant it. She couldn't imagine parenting with someone else. The level of trust required for that enterprise wasn't something she'd reached until him. Single-parenting wouldn't happen for her either. She didn't want to be the sole caregiver and manage all that on her own. With Owen, she was confident they'd handle it. There would be give-and-take. There would be mutual respect and compromise. It could work. She realized that she'd broken eye contact with him when she heard his soft chuckle. Her brow furrowed as she returned her focus to him. "What?"

"Nothing," he smirked with twinkling eyes. "Just watching those gears turn. You never thought about it before, did you?"

"I've thought about having kids before," she groaned. "My sister never misses an opportunity to bring it up."

"Not generally. I meant...with me."

"No. I hadn't." He looked mildly offended, but she was being honest. "I'm sorry," she added sheepishly.

"It's okay." He swung her feet into his lap. "I've been thinking about it a lot." She froze. "Don't freak out," Owen said reassuringly while massaging her calves. "I don't expect you to be in the same headspace as me, and I don't mean now. Someday." She relaxed. His demeanor shifted. "Especially not today. When we're celebrating...freedom from the 'back-up method.'" His eyes suddenly filled with lust. A wolffish grin split his face. It was a relief. She needed a break from the weight of their conversation.

He pulled her further across his lap so that her ass rested on the dock between his thighs. One arm supported her weight as she was perilously close to falling off the edge. The danger heightened her arousal. He hovered over her - taking her in - before his free hand undid the buttons on her blouse. It happened so quickly that Claire pondered whether his eyes alone could make her shirt spontaneously open just as they spontaneously made her go wet. He leaned down to kiss her at the same moment his fingers dipped into her cleavage. He was impossibly good at seducing her. A thought flashed through her mind. He wasn't just the only man with whom she'd consider reproducing. He was probably the only man she wanted to be with ever again. She pushed the premature thought away, but it sparked joy all the same.

"Tell me how you want it, Babyface," she said in her most devastatingly sultry tone. She'd taken to using the nickname when engaging in dirty talk, and Owen quickly learned to enjoy it in that setting.

"Anywhere I find it, gorgeous. As long as it's with you." He was unexpectedly sincere rather than playful. Although, she couldn't find a reason to care.

"I want you out of this shirt." She tugged on his henley. "Then, I want you out of these pants." Dirty talk still made Claire feel inadequate and silly. Owen delighted in her embarrassment about it - told her as much, called it "endearing" that she wasn't perfect.

"Then what?" Owen challenged while scooting their bodies backward, away from the dock's edge. He pulled off his shirt, allowing her to trail kisses across his collarbone. She raised herself up on her knees to kiss his lips.

"Then..." her voice was breathy and barely above a whisper. "I let you do it to me bionic seahorse." He laughed heartily, and her face scrunched up as she took offense. "What?"

"I totally made that up last time we were here. That's not a real thing, but good on you for remembering." Her gaze sharpened. She considered taking a swipe at him. He smoldered at her before confessing, "I love you." She knew he wasn't saying it to stop her from hitting him. He said it because it was the truest thing she had ever known. It grounded her when her insecurities threatened to blast her into outer space. It was a powerful force.

"I love you, too." Owen blushed at her pronouncement. He still seemed to be adjusting to its veracity, but it grounded him in the same way it did to her. He surprised her by quickly pulling them both up to stand and unfastening his pants. Before Claire could protest, he'd slid her blouse to the ground, scooped her up in his arms and kicked off his pants in one fluid motion. He teasingly raised his eyebrows and braced his legs. Realization washed over her, and her voice threatened to crack, "You're not thinking?" He didn't respond verbally but flashed his famously charming lopsided grin instead. "No no no. I'm still wearing-" He didn't let her finish before initiating his leap. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped his neck tightly. A small scream escaped her throat when they hit the water. He was careful to prevent her from becoming fully submerged.

"You will be paying the dry cleaning bill for this skirt," she hissed.

"It was worth it," he answered in a velvet voice. The water reflected in his eyes, magnifying their depth. She forgot about the wet silk. She forgot about everything outside of their passion for each other. Their lips met almost violently and somehow maintained contact whilst they shimmied out of their remaining clothing. He moved their bodies so that her back was to the the dock, then placed her hands around the planks behind her head. They exchanged nods as she secured her grip. He anchored her legs around his hips before plunging deep inside her. He didn't start thrusting immediately. She imagined that he was enjoying the "bareback" sensation. It didn't feel different to her, but the sheer ecstasy on his face indicated that it was different for him. "God, Claire, you feel good." He shuddered in pleasure and looked at her with awe.

"Come on, Babyface, make me scream." She didn't want any sentimentality in this moment. She wanted to be fucked. Hard. Just like he had done in her office on his last paperwork due date, when he'd made her feel wild. Owen didn't have to be told twice. She let out an avid moan as he moved inside her. Her hips cantered in time with his gyrations. It was rougher than ever - in part because water IS a poor lubricant but mostly due to her hands, essentially, being bound. She couldn't touch him and had to maintain an extreme level of focus to prevent her head from smacking into the planks behind it. It was worth it, however, because Owen was clearly enraptured. Just as his pain felt like her own, so did his elation. Her analytical mind couldn't explain it, but, sure as when they first crashed together on the gondola lift, she knew they were in this together. Caught up with no intention to release from each other. She couldn't imagine a better fate. Unsurprisingly, neither could he.

When he held her in his arms later that night, he whispered, "I want it all with you, Claire." She knew he wasn't just talking about sexual positions - even though they'd already been in several that evening. She didn't mind sentimentality in that moment. As he became more comfortable with the truth of her love for him, she was more comfortable with feeling possessed by him.

"I guess I better take you up on that offer of having a drawer here then," she teased lovingly.

"I'll build you a closet, if you want one."

"What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"I ask myself that exact question every day."

"Have you always been this sickeningly sweet?" She was being sarcastic. It was marvelous.

"You do things to me," Owen sighed in contentment and kissed her cheek. "My home is beside and inside you." She hummed in satisfaction and nestled into him as far as was humanly possible. Claire always wanted to maximize their skin-to-skin contact. The missionary position was honestly her favorite with him because of that opportunity. She adored feeling covered by his warm, sturdy frame while wrapping all her extremities around him. There was also no substitute for seeing his face and being able to kiss him when he came. The combination made her feel closest to heaven and the most powerful.

She could tell that he'd fallen asleep, but her mind wouldn't turn off. In a good way. She was too ebullient to rest. She was no longer tied up in knots. She knew what she wanted. Claire had never been sentimental - just as she wasn't previously a touchy-feely person - and, six months ago, wouldn't have guessed that Owen Grady could be that way either. She concurred with his assertion about being each other's home. It was a concept she hadn't previously considered. Never allowed it to enter her worldview in her attempt to emulate Queen Elizabeth. What once she saw as weakness was now the polar opposite. They were strong together in a way that neither achieved on their own. In the past, that might've frightened her. Or made her feel constrained. Today, it opened her eyes to limitless possibilities. It was better than any dream or romance novel.

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 ** _Thanks for reading and please review! I'll hopefully post the epilogue in the next few days. I'm really going to miss these two._**


	12. Epilogue

For many women, their wedding day is the pinnacle of their lives to that point. Zara had plotted every detail to ensure that outcome. She approached wedding planning with the same zeal and dedication that her former boss, Claire, demonstrated on the job. Zara regretted not asking Claire to be one of her bridesmaids. She initially thought the power dynamic between the two would make it awkward or cause Claire to balk at it entirely. As it was now almost six months since Claire left Isla Nublar, Zara missed her deeply and wished they'd had more opportunities to catch up during the wedding weekend. Claire and Owen had, at least, made the transatlantic journey to Buckinghamshire for the occasion.

Zara waited in her suite for Claire to pop by for quick, pre-ceremony visit. The bride was over-flowing with love and self-reflection. She smugly congratulated herself for playing the matchmaker so well. She predicted that Owen and Claire would come together eventually, but she knew it would take some encouragement. Owen was bollocks at treating a woman like a lady, not a sex object. Claire was bollocks at viewing men as anything other than a threat. It made Zara euphoric to witness how it all worked out. How perfectly they fit together. How quickly Owen opened Claire's heart.

It took more than gentle nudges, however. Zara was growing impatient on the day that she dropped her stealth tactics and blatantly scheduled Claire a lunch with him. She never felt guilty assisting Owen when he contacted her with specific questions, but she stopped short of sharing information that Claire might've considered a betrayal. She also told him to "sod off" when he asked her to be his designated driver to Nobu. Alec, thankfully, had more empathy. In his infinite wisdom, Alec convinced Zara that it was better than Claire being stood up. He gave Owen a ride but held his tongue on the board shorts. The bride and groom both had lines they wouldn't cross when it came to intervening in others' love lives. Zara wholeheartedly believed that Owen had been in love with Claire all along. She immediately recognized the way Owen looked at Claire. It was the same way Alec looked at her to make her feel all mushy inside. It took Claire time to see it for herself - her walls built up far too high for her to go to mush right away. Zara didn't tell Claire what she saw because she knew it would cause the closed-off woman to build those walls higher.

Her concerns for Claire's defenses were validated after sharing Marisa's Instagram post. A post that Owen himself asked Zara to bring to her boss' attention. He didn't want Claire to learn about it from anyone else, and he wanted her to know right away. Zara hesitated at first but was swayed by the anguish in his voice. He also pleaded. She told him it was the last favor. She wanted to pull her hair out over their subsequent stubbornness, even if their behavior wasn't wholly surprising. She resisted commiserating with Barry, who was known to wink and speak in code about the pair at times. He long-recognized Owen's affections, too.

Zara allowed herself a moment of melancholy for Barry. He was a good man. Although she didn't share Claire and Owen's interpretation of his demise - a murder made to look like an accident smacked of a cinematic twist rather than a real life event - Zara knew it was the catalyst to the pair's leaving the employ of Simon Masrani. Of course, they had been preparing for that eventuality. Claire suspected that the _Indominus rex_ might be the death of Barry, based on his reports of its behavioral traits. She always told Zara that the best time to find a new job was while you had another one. Never wait until you're let go or need to resign. By the time they resigned - Claire uncomfortable with the board's ambitions for the park and Owen's pack slated for termination, his perspective on the raptor project no longer accepted by Hoskins - new positions awaited them in Boston.

A knock on the door thrust Zara out of her pensive state. She smiled broadly when Claire let herself in. It was quite the role reversal. They greeted each other with a warm but somewhat awkward hug, both trying not to muss Zara's makeup or ensemble.

"It's so good to see you," said Zara, stifling any tears lest her mascara run. "Thank you for coming."

"We wouldn't have missed it," Claire replied. "Besides, it's a much easier trip now compared to traveling from Costa Rica!"

"What do you think of the place?" Zara asked nervously. She still sought Claire's approval despite having taken over her Senior Assets Manager position.

"It's even better than in the movies. Definitely worth waiting for the open weekend." Zara had talked Claire's ear off about how Stoke Park figured prominently in some of her and Alec's favorite movies, including _Layer Cake_ and _Bridget Jones' Diary_. It was the place Zara always fantasized about for her wedding. She honestly would've pushed for it regardless of Alec's opinion, but the fact that he wanted to re-enact the golf match from _Goldfinger_ made her feel like the luckiest woman in the world - even if the estate's limited availability delayed their celebration. "You're glowing, Zara." This observation made her blush.

"So are you. You're still the fireplace for Owen's fire." Claire looked at her friend curiously. Zara laughed. "Alec and I came up with that analogy forever ago, but I never told you because I thought I might get sacked for it." Claire rolled her eyes.

"I would never have fired you."

"I haven't explained it yet," Zara grinned mischievously. Claire's eyebrows went up expectantly before the other woman elaborated, "Without you, Owen would burn himself out and take others down with him. Without him, you'd be cold and angular. Together, he burns eternally for you alone while you stay vibrant and filled." Claire started to tear up, but Zara could tell it was out of appreciation and not offense.

"It sounds like YOU'RE the one preparing a wedding reception toast," Claire sniffled.

"Can you blame me? Has he asked yet?" Claire was suspiciously quiet. "He has!" Claire nodded, and Zara's eyes went to Claire's left hand. She'd been keeping it covered but lifted her right hand to reveal naked fingers. "Where's your ring?"

"He has...both of our rings." Zara's eyes went wide.

"Come again?"

"We...uh...already got married." Zara's eyes threatened to pop out of her head.

"Are you pregnant?"

"No, no," Claire blushed then stammered, "It was just that...when he asked me, I wanted to do it right away. He didn't want to wait either. We went to the justice of the peace the next week." She looked around nervously, avoiding Zara's gaze. "Neither of us needed-"

"Some outrageously expensive, two years in-the-making, over-the-top spectacle?" Zara quirked a brow. She was teasing but got a kick out of making her former boss sweat. These were all descriptors Claire had used for her and Alec's nuptials. Zara knew a big wedding was not Claire or Owen's style. What they chose to do was right for them. "I'm not offended, in the least. I just can't believe you'd hide this from me."

"We also didn't want to take anything away from your special day."

"Good grief, Claire, don't worry about that at all! This makes my day better - I got you two together." She gleefully raised both arms above her head. "I'm the Oracle of Stoke Park! As soon as you get back to him, you put those rings on." Zara waggled a finger and chided her friend. "I deserve to see them."

"The bride always gets what she wants."

"Indeed." They both laughed. Zara frowned suddenly as she caught the time on Claire's watch, "My mum will be in here any second." Claire nodded before they embraced quickly. "Please give a toast," Zara whispered, in order to hold down her emotions. "I would've included you in the wedding party if I was truly an oracle."

"I know," Claire sighed happily. "I prepared a toast, regardless. You deserve that, too."

Whenever Zara caught a glance at Claire and Owen during the festivities, they were always in contact: holding hands, arm-in-arm, or wrapped around each other. They had also put on their rings. To see the pair served to intensify her own wedding day bliss. It was truly a fairy tale. As Claire tapped her glass for her toast, Owen kissed her cheek and whispered something in her ear that made her blush. Zara had thus far managed not to cry during the toasts but had a feeling the floodgates were about to open.

Claire stood and cleared her throat. She held a small scrap of paper but didn't seem to need it. She spoke with conviction, "Zara and Alec chose a fantasy setting for this glorious day, but the dream come true is not today. The dream come true is the marriage itself. The bond. A wedding is just an overt sign of it for the world to see. It's humbling and reassuring to realize that there have already been many signs. Some, even, that you missed and were recognized by someone else instead." Claire paused to smile at Zara and fight back tears. "Zara's special vision for people is why she's a brilliant friend, co-worker, and human being. I don't know Alec as well as I know her, but I have an inkling of the size of his heart." As Owen winked in their direction, Alec took Zara's hand under the table. "I owe them more than words can express. I will be eternally grateful." Claire was trembling slightly and placed her free hand on Owen's shoulder, likely to physically and metaphorically ground herself. "To be transformed by love is the greatest gift in the world. I wish you two all the strength and power that can be derived from that gift."

Claire lifted her glass as joyful tears streamed down her cheeks. Zara's face was a mirror. The bride finally let catharsis take control. She would always view Claire as a role model. To Zara, Claire had it all. Claire motivated her to be the best woman and partner she could be. Zara had watched Claire weather countless challenges, great and small, independently and with Owen at her side. Claire was consistently graceful, poised, and tenacious. Zara hoped to live up to Claire's legacy on personal and professional levels. She would take Claire's words - both those of encouragement uttered during her toast and those of warning expressed while still on Nublar - to heart.

When Zara pulled it together to mouth the words, "Thank you," in Claire's direction, it was a futile effort. Claire and Owen were kissing fervently. Unabashed and focused solely on each other. Zara giggled in delight. Alec followed her gaze then flashed her a lustful grin. She didn't need it, but the majesty of Stoke Park gave love an even more magical luster. Come what may, the future seemed bright.

* * *

 _ **Thanks to everyone who has supported this story. I can't believe that something I originally conceived as a oneshot expanded to twelve installments! Please leave a review, so I know what**_ _ **you think of how I rounded out this story. I wouldn't continue**_ _ **writing if not for the readers. All encouragement, large and small, keeps me motivated and inspired - you're miraculous! If you want to connect on Twitter, see my profile.**_


	13. Addendum

**_I hope readers/followers don't mind (too much) this shameless plug. I'm currently writing a canon compliant fic with another Clawen/_ Jurassic _author, akaJB. It's called_** **The Missing Years** _ **and posted under our joint FFN account, EliseCollier-akaJB (direct link to the story is in my profile). akaJB is a fantastic author in her own right, so please check out her stuff, too (link in my profile as well). I figured that adding this addendum to**_ **Catch and Release** _ **was my best chance to advertise the new work. Thanks to everyone who has supported my work over the last two years!**_

 **The Missing Years** _**is** **only** **getting** **started**_ , _**and** **we** **do** **plan** **to** **fully** **cover** **the** **time**_ **_between_ Jurassic World** **_and_ Fallen _Kingdom_**. _**We will flesh out the Clawen breakup but not before giving readers the necessary hope to see it through and root for them in the end. As always, we want your feedback on the work!**_ _ **Here's** **a** **teaser** **for** **the** **first** **chapter** **of** **the**_ " _ **Immediate** **Fallout."**_

* * *

Arriving by helicopter always made Henry Wu feel superior. Like he had arrived, and his genius was seen and respected. While the actual arrival might feel good; however, he had yet to figure out how to disembark in a way that kept up that appearance. The noise from the whirling blades caused his immaculate, minimalist look (that, yes, was inspired by Steve Jobs) to feel not quite so perfect. And he always felt like he sort of stumbled out, not able to make the grand entrance he wanted.

This time, however, was different. He was still clutching tightly to the black bag he'd carried onto the helicopter back on Nublar, even though they'd already had to stop and refuel in San Diego. He was feeling pale and shaky, and had been unable to take more than a couple of sips of the water bottle that had been pressed into his hand at some point. How had things gone so wrong, and so quickly?

It was hard to believe that it had only been a few hours ago that he and Hoskins had been making their plans for the next generation of the Indominus. "A fraction of the size," was the main thing they had agreed upon. It was too big and too smart to control. But the IBRIS project had provided them with a mountain of data. For all of Mr. Grady's faults, he was showing them the way forward.

As he stumbled off the helicopter, Henry was greeted by a younger man who looked to be around thirty wearing glasses and a sharply tailored suit. They nodded at each other, before the man gestured towards a waiting limo. Grateful to get away from the noise and wind of the helicopter, Wu hurried forward, the two of them climbing into the back.

"Is that it?" The younger man gestured to the briefcase.

"You're Eli?" Henry questioned, not letting go of the bag.

The man nodded, reaching forward to shake Wu's hand. "Yes, Eli Mills. I forget we hadn't actually met before."

"We haven't even talked," Henry reminded him, exchanging a brief handshake. "Where's Hoskins? I thought he'd be meeting us here."

"Hoskins is dead," Eli informed him.

"What? How?"

"One of the raptors," Eli replied. "It's not public knowledge yet."

"What happens to the plan?"

"We move forward," Eli shrugged. "I'm in the process of getting the lab back up and running at the Estate."

"What about Lockwood?"

"He's practically senile," Eli dismissed his boss.

"That's not what I heard," Henry replied. "He seems to be still quite with it."

"He won't be a problem," Eli reassured. "The estate is big enough that you'll never cross paths. He's barely moving about these days. And he trusts me."

"Trust only goes so far."

"Yeah, well, I've been his right hand man for almost a decade now. I know all his secrets. At this point, he has to trust me."

"Blackmail. That's healthy," Henry rolled his eyes.

"I don't need blackmail," Eli disagreed. "It's just handy to always have something available – you never know if things will change." Eli's gaze went back to the bag. "So, are those the samples?"

"Yes," Henry nodded. "Some of them. My team should've evacuated more. But I guess we'll have to see where things end up. I wanted to make sure that the most important ones, the key ones, stayed in our hands."

"Great, I'll take that," Eli reached for the briefcase, which Henry immediately shifted out of range.

"Do you have the area setup? And all the equipment I asked for? These samples need to be stored in the proper environment. It's already been far longer than I'd like for them to have been out."

"We're still waiting on some equipment, but the fridges and freezers have been setup and are at their optimal temperatures," Eli assured him. "The samples will be safe."

"What about me?" Henry asked, finally handing over the briefcase. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You need to get back to the evacuation center. It'll raise too many eyebrows if you're seen up here, or with me. Deal with the fallout, listen to InGen's lawyers. We'll be in touch." Eli turned and tapped on the glass separating the back of the limousine from the driver. Moments later the door was pulled open.

"How do I reach you?" Henry asked.

"Don't worry about it. I'll reach back out to you. It's best for now that there's no evidence of our direct contact. As soon as things start to die down, you'll hear from me."

Henry climbed out of the car, before turning back and looking at Eli, his gaze dropping to the briefcase. "You may have the samples now, but remember, most of the knowledge is stored right here," he tapped a finger against his temple. "Without me, those samples will be useless."

"You're too paranoid," Eli laughed. "I promise. I'll be in touch."

x x x

"Probably stick together." Owen paused to get a read on Claire and, if he was being totally honest, himself. This hadn't worked once before. While it was over faster than he would've liked, they both knew it was more than one date. His efforts to keep it friendly and casual seemed to have backfired spectacularly. Standing in front of her now, and after having been side-by-side for the last twenty-four hours, he was done pretending. It was time to put-up or shut-up. "For survival," he added with a small smirk. Her tiny nod was all he needed before turning toward the exit. Thankfully, she started following him out of the hangar. Their eyes met in a sideways glance, and Owen thought this could be a new beginning.

Almost immediately after they stepped into the sun, however, any plans that might've been forming in either of their minds were put on hold.

"Mr. Grady," a brusque voice broke through the din. Squinting in the bright light, Owen recognized the speaker as an InGen contractor, Mac, who worked closely with Vic Hoskins. Barry had mentioned seeing him at the raptor paddock before Owen's arrival the previous evening. It appeared that InGen had multiple contingency plans. After nodding respectfully toward Claire, Mac continued, "InGen is prepping missions to retrieve guest and staff belongings as well as research data left on the island. I expect you'll be joining us." It was practically blackmail. Of course, Owen didn't want anyone else touching his files at the paddock and his bungalow.

Before Owen could respond verbally – Claire thought he looked close to exploding – a female voice pulled their attention. "Ms. Dearing," the pantsuited woman said softly. "The board would like you on a teleconference from the San Jose offices ASAP." Her lips forming a tight line, Claire gathered her thoughts and took a deep breath.

"Absolutely," the still Senior Assets Manager finally responded. The other woman extended an arm in the direction of a waiting town car. Biting her lip, Claire turned toward Owen and offered a weak, "I'll call you."

The beleaguered raptor trainer nodded reluctantly with gritted his teeth and returned his focus to Mac, who was tapping something onto his phone. Looking back to Owen, he launched into his spiel, "We'll be operating on a very short string, two hours, so gather any other staff you want on the team and report to the command post on the other side of the hangar."

"Do I get mission input?" asked Owen impatiently.

"It's targeted recovery and clean-up. We're implementing established protocols with oversight and direction by the board and general counsel."

"In other words, 'shut up and color'?"

Mac grinned, "Exactly, soldier."

"It's Lieutenant Commander."

"Not anymore." His laugh made Owen's hairs stand on end. "We have cell phones, provisions, and cots at the command post. See you over there." Without another word, the contractor was walking briskly away to take a call. Owen needed to find Barry…and Lowery.

Stalking back to the hangar, he patted his vest pockets and swore. Realization washed over him. His phone was still on Nublar, and he didn't remember Claire's number. Some new beginning this was turning out to be.


End file.
